The Half Blood Prince
by dozygirl
Summary: Post OotP. It's Harry's sixth year and there's a strange new group trying to get his attention. There's also a new prophecy about the Half Blood Prince and the truth abouth his own heritage for him to deal with. H/? R/Hr Non-humans, no slash, no horcruxes
1. Summer at the Dursleys

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I am making no money from this publication.**

**This will be Ron/Hermione, but I'm not going to tell you who Harry will be with yet. I can promise that it won't be slash, nor will it be H/G or H/Hr.**

**Some readers may note that the prologue has been deleted. This was done deliberately when I decided I didn't like it. Authors prerogative. There have also been some minor changes to this chapter, mostly because I reread it and felt that the pace was a bit off. I'm going to continue to edit the chapters already posted to correct the problem.**

Chapter 1 – Summer at the Dursleys.

It was summer, supposedly, although one wouldn't have guessed it from the storm over Surrey that day. The rain fell in torrents and dark grey clouds scudded across the sky before tempestuous winds. Every so often lightning flickered and thunder rumbled ominously.

Harry Potter sighed. He supposed the storm had been inevitable given the muggy heat of the past week or so but did it really have to choose right now to strike? It was just his bad luck that he had chosen to take a quick stroll only minutes before the downpour began. At first he hadn't cared; the dark skies matched his bleak mood and what was a little bit of rain anyway? But as the winds picked up and his clothes became thoroughly soaked he knew he had to make his way back inside before he made himself ill. So he'd turned around and ran as quickly as he was able back to number four Privet Drive, painfully aware of the wheezing that followed him, announcing the presence of Mundungus Fletcher, his guard for the day.

As he rounded the corner back onto Privet Drive he froze in surprise. Vernon's sparkling company car, which Harry had been ordered to clean only that morning, was missing from the driveway. He'd only been out about five minutes and when he'd left both Vernon and Petunia had been seated on the couch watching TV. They'd looked like they would be there most of the afternoon. He ran a hand through his hair that was now plastered to his forehead and ran the rest of the way to number four. Just to make sure he tried the door and wasn't surprised to find it locked. With a long drawn out sigh he trudged around to the back. There was a tree round in the garden that provided reasonable shelter. The front porch would have been better, but he knew that if he was seen sitting there during a rainstorm the neighbours would start talking and then there'd be hell to pay with his so-called family. Of course none of those neighbours would offer him shelter for an hour or so until the Dursleys returned, because he was 'that Potter boy,' the local delinquent, layabout and all around no good piece of scum. On the other hand, had it been Dudley that was left out in the rain – not that that would ever be allowed to happen – he would have been invited in with open arms and offered a hot drink and a dry towel, because he was such a 'darling angel.' Or so Petunia would have everyone believe.

This wasn't the first time Harry had been the victim of 'accidents' like this. Ever since the Order had spoken to the Dursleys at Kings Cross they had been too terrified to act as they used to. So the insults, endless chores and occasional bouts of starvation had stopped, but without their usual source of summer entertainment they were forced to be crafty. The first week he had been home Petunia had 'accidentally' knocked a picture off the wall and onto his head while she was cleaning. A few days later Dudley had 'accidentally' bumped into him as he came out of his room and only his quick reflexes had helped him avoid a tumble down the stairs. Vernon had taken to pushing out his chair when he knew Harry was behind him and then bellowing loudly for all to hear that it was Harry's fault for sneaking around. And now here he was, sheltering under a tree in the rain, while his relatives were off who-knows-where. They'd probably planned something like this for weeks, waiting for him to be outside when the rain came and then scarpering as fast as they could. They'd return in an hour or so and make a big fuss about how irresponsible he was to have gone out without a key. Harry snorted. Like they would ever trust him with a key to their precious home. They'd be too terrified of him giving it to one of his friends and letting 'those freaks' in and out as he pleased.

A hacking noise made its way over to him and Harry grinned despite himself. "Don't suppose you want to let me in, Dung?" He could just picture the look on his aunt's face if he managed to get inside after they went to so much trouble to leave him out in the rain. Maybe he could track mud all over her pristine floors just for good measure.

Dung cleared his throat, a horrible phlegmy sound that made Harry cringe, and choked out between sucking in lungfuls of air, "Not s'posed to do magic around you."

"It's only an unlocking spell," Harry argued.

"Yeah, but see, ol' Dumbledore'll be sending someun down to have a look-see if I do that."

"I doubt he'll mind," Harry said plaintively. "I'll even explain it to him myself."

"We-ell," Dung started.

"Let me guess," Harry said tiredly. "If he comes down here he might notice that you've been doing something you shouldn't have been, so instead I get to sit in the rain."

"Knew yer'd unnerstand," Dung said.

Harry huffed, mopping water from his forehead.

By the time the Dursleys returned two hours later Harry was thoroughly soaked – and miserable. Of course they pretended it had been an accident and Vernon even went so far as to claim they had left for some sort of emergency, but Harry was past caring about their excuses. Their methods might be different, but they were still the Dursleys and they still hated him.

Petunia made him wait on the doorstep until she had laid some towels on the floor for him to stand on so he didn't muddy her carpets. All the while Harry was fuming.

By the time he got back to his room and threw himself – still in his wet clothes – upon his bed he was ready to strangle someone. The Dursleys, Dung, Dumbledore, he didn't care which one. Was it too little to ask that he receive a little consideration during the summer? Especially this summer. He couldn't even complain to one of the myriad of people watching him because as far as the majority of the wizarding world was concerned he was a spoiled brat and telling anyone he was being mistreated would be met with derision. There was no point in even telling the Order, despite the fact that they had given the Dursleys a warning about the way they treated him. They would think he was over reacting to get the Dursleys in trouble if he complained about something as minor as getting locked out in the rain. No one else understood just how devious his family could be so naturally they'd think it was just a misunderstanding.

Groaning, he pulled himself out of bed and grabbed some dry clothes. He might feel better after a hot shower.

The Dursleys wouldn't have been a problem two months ago. Not when Sirius was still alive. One little comment about his godfather after an incident like this would have them scrambling to make nice. Harry swallowed hard as the warm water fell over his face. That was no longer possible and the Order just didn't scare them the way an escaped and possibly insane murderer did. Of course, Sirius had never done any of the things he'd been convicted for, but the Dursleys didn't need to know that.

That wasn't even the worst part though. All his life Harry had felt like an outsider looking in. He wasn't part of the Dursley family, that much had been made clear to him at a very early age when his attempt to call Aunt Petunia mummy had been met with a slap and a strangled cry of "I am not your mother!" At school he had been unable to make friends with the other children because they all knew that anyone that approached him would be made miserable by Dudley and his gang. Then, finally, he thought he might belong at Hogwarts with wizards and witches just like himself until harsh reality interfered and he realised that even there he was different to his peers. He might have some good friends like Ron and Hermione, but the majority of the students would always think of him as the Boy-Who-Lived, a celebrity and possibly a hero and at times a villain and they could never forget who he was long enough to get to know the real him. Even the Weasley family who claimed to love him as one of their own could never make him feel like he belonged because there was always the ever present feeling that he was intruding.

But Sirius had been _his_. _His_ family. _His_ chance to belong with someone and that had been ripped away from him because he was stupid. He had believed his dream and run off when he had Hermione right there telling him that it could be a trap. But Harry hadn't listened. He'd been so sure that Sirius was being tortured that he'd run off half cocked and put himself right where Voldemort wanted him. Sirius had paid for that mistake with his life. No it wasn't a mistake, it was sheer bull headed arrogance on his part that led him to run off to the Department of Mysteries on a rescue mission that he should have known was doomed from the start. Professor Snape was right, he was an arrogant little celebrity who always wanted to save the day. Hermione was right too, he did have a 'saving people thing,' but this time it had killed the person he'd gone to save and he'd have to live with that fact for the rest of his life.

Harry blinked away the tears that had mingled with the hot water and shut off the shower. As he dried himself and dressed in fresh clothes he tried to will his thoughts away from the depressing avenue they had turned down. Not that there was a lot else to think about around here. For the first week or so he'd tried immersing himself in his school books as a way of distracting himself only to come to the conclusion that he was not Hermione and he would never be able to read for fun; he just didn't have the patience. The Dursleys no longer gave him chore after chore so as not to give Harry reason to complain that he was being used for slave labour and they ignored him most of the time unless they had something particularly snarky, yet seemingly innocent to say to him. He couldn't even turn to the outside world for some companionship because nearly all the locals thought he was a criminal and the Order weren't supposed to talk to him unless it was an emergency. From time to time he received letters from his two best friends, but hearing about Hermione's holiday in Spain and how she had met one of the local _Bruja_ who had cured her mother of sunstroke with a glass of water failed to raise his interest for more than a few moments. Likewise Ron's description of summer life at the Burrow left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried not to let it show in his replies though and painted a picture for them of lazy summer days spent in Surrey. He didn't want either of them knowing just how miserable he was and he certainly didn't want them to pity him.

All in all he was lonely. As he exited the bathroom he could hear the sounds of the Dursleys eating. Once again they hadn't called him for the meal, hoping he'd forget and they could say that it wasn't their fault that he didn't want to eat.

He trudged downstairs and into the kitchen, ignoring the disgruntled look his uncle gave him. He grabbed his plate and sat down at the large square table, one side of which was completely taken over by his large cousin. Dudley was the only one that hadn't noticed Harry come in, his attention fixed firmly on the new TV. He was sure Petunia had seen him even though she had her face turned away, her nose pointedly in the air as if she smelled something bad. On days like these it felt like he didn't really exist. No wonder he was lonely. Of course if the only other option was living with their visible contempt of him he'd take being lonely any day.

Such morose thoughts inevitably brought him back to Sirius. His godfather had once promised him a different home, one where he wasn't hated and scorned, but that dream had faltered when Wormtail's escape meant they couldn't prove Sirius' innocence. Now it had died altogether. He could only imagine what Sirius would have been like to live with. Most likely Harry would awaken most mornings to some variety of prank before breakfast which would have been inedible because he was sure Sirius couldn't cook. Remus Lupin would have come around all the time to help Harry with his homework while Sirius would get in the way, thinking he could help better. He would have been allowed friends over whenever he liked and as much food as he wanted and taught to prank and joke and it would have been great. Sirius would have been overprotective, Harry decided, what he knew of his godfather told him that much. Hadn't he risked his life just to be close to him during the triwizard tournament? And hadn't he been just as reckless at the Ministry as Harry himself had been, just because he thought Harry was in danger?

Harry sighed and pushed his plate away. Suddenly he wasn't feeling very hungry. Dudley turned around and glared at him for making so much noise before he grabbed the remote and turned the volume up full blast.

Harry stood and began to leave the room but before he took two steps Vernon called him back.

"Have you written that letter, boy?" he demanded.

"Not yet, Uncle Vernon," Harry said quickly. "I was going to write it tonight. Hedwig's out hunting right now, but I can send it as soon as she gets back."

"See that you do," Vernon growled at him before turning away as if the whole conversation had never taken place.

Harry quietly returned to his room. He had in fact written the required letter that morning but didn't want to tell Vernon that for fear he would ask to see it. He hadn't complained about his family, but he hadn't been particularly nice about them either.

A noise at his window startled him and he jumped up to see Pig, Ron's owl, flittering to and fro. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. For a moment at least he could forget all his troubles.

Once he'd let Pig in, caught him and unravelled the scroll from his leg he sat down to read.

_Hey mate. How are you? I hope those muggles are treating you right. If not, let us know and Dad and the Order will come and get you. If they are, well Mum's been speaking to Dumbledore and he reckons you can leave there the day before your birthday! So we'll come and get you sometime on the thirtieth. Hermione will be back from Spain by then so she'll be joining us here. I would say I was looking forward to seeing her, but our OWL results should be here by then and you just know she'll be a nightmare about the whole thing._

Harry smirked. No matter what he said it was obvious that Ron had feelings for Hermione. Unfortunately Ron didn't seem to have realised it for himself yet, or if he had he wasn't telling Harry about it.

_Anyway, we'll see you at five on the thirtieth. Mum's planning a huge Weasley party for you. Should be good. She even promised to make treacle tart for you and she always makes her famous chocolate cake for birthdays. She'll probably go way overboard, but it wouldn't be a Weasley party if she didn't._

_Ron._

_P.S. I told Hermione I'd already decided what classes I want to take next year, but I reckon I'll just do whatever you're doing so let me know soon or she'll know I'm lying. Don't tell her. I don't know why she thinks we need to decide now, it's not like we have our results yet or anything._

Harry stared at the letter in amazement. A birthday party for _him_. The whole idea seemed incredible. He'd never so much as had a birthday _lunch_ before, but now he was being offered a whole party!

Of course, that was still a week away. Six days until he could get out of here. His heart leapt. No Dursleys for an entire year, then he'd only have to come back next summer and he'd be free of them forever. He could handle that.

Despite the fact that he still had six days left in this house Harry immediately began piling all his belongings in his trunk, only leaving the things he stored under a loose floorboard beneath his bed.

By the time he was done it was dark outside and he collapsed back on his bed, happily thinking about birthday parties and Quidditch at the Burrow with his friends. Before he knew it he fell into a restless sleep.

He dreamt of cake and laughter, with upbeat music in the background and all his friends around him, all the things a party should have, but the dream soon turned stale and he found himself on a dark street of some nameless muggle town. He struggled to wake up, knowing from the pain in his scar exactly what would come next.

A scream tore through the air followed by the sound of glass breaking and Harry began to run, already knowing there was nothing he could do. As always he was completely helpless to these visions.

It was obvious which house was being attacked as soon as it came into sight. The door was wide open, hanging off it's hinges and allowing the glow of electric lights to flood out onto the front path. One of the downstairs windows had been shattered and as Harry approached he could see that the pieces of glass on the grass had flecks of blood on them. It wasn't until he was right next to the front door that he spotted the figure huddled in the bushes. He was dressed in tattered muggle clothes and was bleeding from several wounds on his face and chest.

A man stepped out of the door and looked right through Harry towards the man. "Come back inside, Derrick," he said. "Your family is dead and you have no reason left to fight. The Dark Lord might be merciful and make it quick."

Derrick whimpered, whether from pain or fright Harry couldn't tell, but he made no move to stand. Harry put himself between them, knowing he couldn't be seen, yet desperate to stop this in any way he could, but the Death Eater walked right through him and grabbed Derrick's arm, hauling him to his feet and dragged him back inside. Unwillingly, Harry followed.

Inside was chaos. There was more glass on the floor and some of the furniture had been overturned. Harry almost retched when he saw the body of a woman draped over a small child, also dead. Another little boy, perhaps six years old had been practically ripped apart. Derrick sobbed upon seeing them.

In the centre of the room, sitting on a large chair with a Death Eater on either side of him was the cause of Harry's aching scar, Voldemort, his red eyes staring at Derrick.

"You could have prevented this," Voldemort said. "You are a pureblood, I would have spared your life, but marrying a muggle is a crime I cannot forgive."

Derrick appeared to be past caring and just stood, looking past Voldemort at his dead wife with a blank look in his eyes.

"It appears we have broken him," Voldemort said, twirling his wand between his fingers. "And I had so wanted to torture him for a while."

The Death Eaters laughed moronically.

"I doubt he'd even feel it right now," Voldemort continued. He levelled his wand at Derrick. "_Avada Kedavra_."

Time seemed to slow as Harry screamed out against the pain growing in his head from Voldemort's sick enjoyment of this moment. "NO!"

The electricity flickered and the light bulb exploded above him. As the pain dulled Harry looked up at it in amazement. Had he done that?

Voldemort too was staring at the light as his Death Eaters cast _Lumos _charms.

Suddenly remembering Derrick Harry spun to find the man lying prone on the floor. Harry dropped to his knees beside him, suddenly gasping for breath as the pain in his scar flared once more.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "You are full of surprises aren't you?"

Harry awoke in his own bed with a start and immediately turned onto his side to throw up violently over the floor. Petunia would be horrified to know he'd been sick on one of her precious carpets.

Had he really managed to effect something in the vision? That had never happened before and he'd been having these dreams all summer. If he had another – _when_ he had another – he would have to see if he could do it again, this time before the victim was killed. It was slightly worrying that Voldemort had known he was the cause of the exploding light, but it was worth the risk if he could save a life.

With a sigh he threw his covers aside and climbed out of bed, carefully avoiding the pool of vomit on the floor. He scribbled out a quick letter, not that it would make any difference now, but he had promised the Order he'd tell them about his dreams. As Hedwig flew off Harry grabbed one of Dudley's old t-shirts and used it to clean up the floor.

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The next few days passed slowly as Harry counted the hours until he would leave for the Burrow. He desperately wanted to get out of this house and away from these people that made no secret of the fact that they hated him.

On the twenty ninth, the day before he was due to be collected, Harry was seated at the dinner table with his relatives.

"Er, Uncle Vernon," he said hesitantly. One never knew how Vernon would react to being spoken to by Harry, especially during a meal.

Vernon merely grunted.

"My friend – Ron Weasley – invited me over for the rest of the summer," Harry said quickly. "Someone will be here to get me tomorrow at five."

Harry expected Vernon to merely give some sign that he had heard and then turn his attention back to the television. He was therefore surprised when his uncle turned to Petunia, and nodded towards the door.

Harry watched bemusedly as Petunia left her half eaten dinner and exited the room. Her soft footsteps could be heard going up the stairs. What on earth could she be doing?

"These friends of yours..." Vernon said pulling Harry's attention away from his aunt's doings. "They'll make sure you get to school will they?"

Harry frowned. "Yes, just like they always do."

"And they shan't be wanting anything for keeping you?"

"No," Harry said. Where was all this coming from? Usually Vernon was just glad to be rid of him.

"Good," Vernon said smartly, sitting back and crossing his arms. "Because they won't get a penny from me."

"Fine then," Harry said, starting to get a little irritated now.

"And they'd better not destroy the fireplace again," Vernon went on as if Harry hadn't spoken.

That was a point. Ron hadn't mentioned how his rescuers would be arriving. "Er..."

"I won't have it, boy, I won't," Vernon said, shaking one podgy finger.

"I'm sure they won't," Harry said, praying he was right.

"Yes, well," before Vernon could finish whatever it was he was going to say Petunia walked back in and nodded slightly to Vernon. Harry looked between the two suspiciously.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"If you've finished eating you may leave the table," Petunia said stiffly, re-taking her seat.

"What did you do?" Harry demanded. He had a really bad feeling about this.

"Go to your room," Vernon growled.

Harry pushed his plate away and stormed out of the room in disgust. Were they planning another way to make him miserable?

Once back in his room he noticed that Hedwig was gone again. That wasn't odd as he usually left the window open so she could come and go as she pleased, but she'd only arrived back from Hermione's an hour ago. Harry hadn't even had a chance to read her letter yet.

To distract himself from his irritation with the Dursleys he pulled the letter towards himself and opened it.

_Dear Harry._

_My parents and I only arrived home last night. I can't wait to tell you and Ron all about it. Spain has an amazing history, both muggle and magical. You won't believe all the things I've seen. I'll wait to tell you all about it in person when we see each other at Ron's._

_Our OWL results are supposed to arrive tomorrow, but I think I'll wait until the three of us are together before I open them, will you wait too? It's only a few hours and then we can open them at the same time. Won't that be exciting? I'm so nervous. I really hope I did well, but I think I probably lost marks on the Runes exam for mixing up __**ehwaz with eiwaz.**__ I really hope we don't lose points on Astronomy because that was clearly unfair, with all that disturbance going on while we were tryingto concentrate. I've a good mind to ask to take it again and you should too. _

_I'll leave it there because I'll be seeing you tomorrow. I don't know if I can sleep tonight for excitement. Our OWL's are really important; they determine what classes we're eligible for next year._

_Anyway, see you soon._

_Hermione._

_P.S. Have you thought about what classes you want to take yet? You really should you know. Even if you don't get in to all of them it's a good idea to be prepared._

Harry couldn't help but smile. Sometimes Hermione was so predictable. He hadn't given much thought to his OWL results, but now he was faced with the probability of receiving them he was filled with nerves. Would he fail everything? He wasn't sure about opening them anywhere near Hermione or if he wanted her to know what he got at all.

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The next day Harry woke up early to pack and repack his things. He was so eager to get away from the Dursleys and go to the Burrow where people actually liked him. After that he spent the rest of the day watching the time, silently willing the hours to go by faster.

Eventually the time came and Harry dragged his trunk downstairs so that when the Order came he could leave right away. Unlike when the Weasleys had collected him two years before the Dursleys were apparently unconcerned with the impending arrival of wizards into their home. Petunia was cooking in the kitchen while Vernon and Dudley watched TV in the living room. Every so often Dudley would turn around and smirk at him though for the life of him Harry couldn't figure out why. Usually Dudley would be waddling around in horror at the mere thought of a wizard.

Five o 'clock came and the clock on the mantel chimed the hour. Harry stared at the door, waiting for the knock, but keeping half an eye on the fireplace just in case.

He stayed that way for about ten minutes before he felt someone looking at him. It was Vernon.

"They're late," he said needlessly.

Harry glared at him balefully before returning his attention to the door.

About an hour later Petunia called Vernon and Dudley for dinner telling Harry rather pointedly that as she had expected him to be gone by now she hadn't prepared him anything. Harry didn't care. He was sure the Order had just been delayed. They'd be here any second.

For the first time that summer Harry spent an entire evening in the presence of the Dursleys. For the most part he was ignored although Dudley did seem to find it hilarious that no one had come to collect him. Harry was just growing more and more anxious as time went by.

At ten Vernon and Petunia headed upstairs to bed and Dudley muttered some excuse about wanting to play his Playstation in his room though Harry suspected he just didn't want to be left alone with him.

Now he had the living room to himself Harry picked himself up from the floor and stretched out on the couch. They were over five hours late now. Surely they would have told him if they weren't coming. He'd give it ten more minutes and then give up. Maybe Hedwig would be back by morning and he could write and ask them what had happened.

Come to think of it, where was Hedwig? He hadn't seen her since the day before. She was never gone so long unless she was delivering a letter, but he hadn't sent anything. She'd disappeared right after he told the Dursleys he was leaving. And what had Petunia been doing while Vernon was questioning him anyway? A dreadful suspicion began to form in his mind.

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A/N: As always my Yahoo! group is a chapter ahead so if you really can't wait to find out what happens next just click on the link on my profile.

Nat.


	2. Escape

Chapter 2 – Escape

The next morning Harry crawled out of bed, still feeling as angry as he had the night before. Unsurprisingly his dreams had been filled with his friends being hurt as they were coming to collect him, which only served to fuel his anger. There was no way they would have just forgotten him. There must be a reason they hadn't come.

He'd stayed sitting on the couch until midnight when he'd finally given up hope and dragged his trunk back up the stairs. He'd half expected to see owls clamouring to get in through his window, either with his birthday presents or with a letter of apology and an explanation, but there had been nothing. It really was as if he'd been completely forgotten.

He stomped down the stairs in a foul mood. He didn't know what had happened but he couldn't dismiss the thoughts that had occurred to him late last night. Did the Dursleys have something to do with this?

"Still here are you, boy?" Vernon said smugly from behind his newspaper. "I suppose those friends of yours decided they didn't want you after all. No surprise really. Why would they?"

Harry pulled the newspaper out of his hands and threw it across the room. "What did you do?"

Dudley actually looked away from the television, excited by the disturbance. His pig-like eyes widened and a grin began to form. He probably thought Harry was going to get punished. Across the room Petunia continued to prepare breakfast as though nothing were going on.

Vernon stood up, glaring down at Harry. "I don't like your tone, boy. You will speak to me with respect if you want to stay under _my_ roof."

"Yeah, well I don't really want to," Harry said, not backing down an inch. "So if you'd just tell me what you did then I'll happily contact my friends and get out of your hair." With Hedwig still missing that would be a tad difficult, but he'd find a way.

"We didn't do a thing," Vernon said, his moustache was bristling and his face was just starting to go a lovely red colour. "Don't go blaming us for your shortcomings. Just because your friends don't come running at your beck and call is no concern of ours."

"Yeah right," Harry snorted. "For the first time you show an interest in my life while Aunt Petunia goes sneaking off upstairs. Then when I get to my room I find Hedwig's gone and then my friends don't come to get me when they said they would. Now tell me what you did."

Vernon smirked. "Not so stupid as you look are you?"

Harry fumed silently.

"Fine. We sent them a letter telling them you'd be spending the entire summer with us this year because we wanted to treat you to a holiday abroad."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "Why would you do that?"

"We might have to take you in year after year, but that doesn't mean we want any old freaks wandering about this house," Petunia sniffed, placing a heaped plate of sausages, bacon, eggs and toast in front of Dudley whose diet of two summers before had been long forgotten now he was a boxing 'champion'. Personally Harry was surprised he could lift himself into a ring, let alone box his way out of it.

"Nice try," Harry said scathingly. "They'd be here for two minutes at most and then you wouldn't have to see me for a whole year. Don't pretend that isn't what you normally want. What's the real reason?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shared a long look.

"It's your own fault," Aunt Petunia said at last. "If you hadn't done you-know-what to poor Duddikins last summer then I never would have gotten that..._ letter._"

Harry vaguely remembered the howler Dumbledore had sent her last year after the incident with the dementors, but didn't see what that had to do with any of this.

"Your aunt showed me the letter that was left with you on our doorstep," Uncle Vernon said briskly. "It seems that your Headmaster used his _thing_ to protect you and this house while you were here from some bloke named after a pastry."

"So?" Harry said trying to work out who exactly Uncle Vernon was talking about.

"It's Voldemort, remember Vernon, not vaulivant," Petunia muttered under her breath so Harry only just caught it.

Vernon ignored her, focusing his beady eyes on Harry to gage his reaction. "You told us he was back and after you. Now tell me, boy, what happens to us, the people who raised you?"

Harry swallowed. He had a nasty feeling he knew where this was going, but he couldn't lie to them. "He'd kill you. Might even torture you first."

In the corner Dudley's face went a pasty white, but Uncle Vernon seemed to be expecting this answer. "So it seems to me that the only way we're safe is to keep you here all the time. It might not be a pleasant thought, but I'm sure we'll manage to put up with you somehow."

"That's ridiculous," Harry exploded. "I only need to be here for a few weeks a year to keep the spells going. Trust me, Dumbledore wouldn't let me leave before they were recharged. You'll be perfectly safe." In all honesty he didn't care much what happened to the Dursleys, but he didn't want them dead. Even so, there was no way he was going to miss Hogwarts for them, especially when he knew they'd be perfectly fine without him.

"We're not taking that risk," Petunia snapped. "You'll just have to stay here. We've already arranged for you to go to Stonewall High in September."

Harry gaped at her. "No! I'm not staying. My friends won't just forget about me."

"That's why you're going to write to them and tell them that you've decided to stay here," Vernon said, sitting back down as if the conversation were over. "I don't care what you have to tell them, just convince tham it's what you want."

"No," Harry said again. "As soon as Hedwig gets back I'm going to write and tell them what you've done and they'll come and get me."

Vernon surged to his feet and Harry took an involuntary step back. One beefy hand shot out and caught Harry's upper arm and began steering him out of the room and up the stairs. "You will do as you're told," a purple faced Uncled Vernon hissed angrily as he opened Harry's door and forced him inside.

"You can't make me," Harry retorted angrily, shaking himself out of his uncle's grip.

"Really? Can't I?" Harry was slightly disturbed to see the vein in Uncle Vernon's forehead begin to pulse, something that only happened when the man was really angry. Without warning his hand struck out and Harry twisted at the force of the blow, falling to the floor with a small cry.

When he looked up Uncle Vernon had calmed down and was now staring between his hand and Harry. He seemed almost surprised as if he had no control over his own actions.

Harry glared at him defiantly, although his mind whirled in the shock of what had just happened. Although the odd slap was nothing new for him this was the first time he could remember Uncle Vernon actually punching him, especially since he had started his schooling at Hogwarts.

"Yes, well," Uncle Vernon blustered. "You think about it and when you're ready to do as you're told maybe we'll let you out."

It took a moment for Harry to realise what he meant, but by the time he had gotten to his feet and lurched towards the door Uncle Vernon had already disappeared behind it, shutting it firmly. The sounds of the locks clicking into place on the other side filled him with dread. This was more like the Dursleys usual style. He'd grown up in this house largely unscathed as far as physical violence went, but he was quite used to being locked away and starved. His family seemed to prefer the more distant approach of making him feel unwanted. True Aunt Petunia had a tendency to chase him with frying pans and Uncle Vernon had tried to throttle him once or twice and Dudley's gang used to beat him up all the time. Then there was that time Uncle Vernon had grabbed his arm and slammed him into a wall, resulting in a broken arm and a lost tooth, thankfully it had only been one of his baby teeth, but still. It had all stopped once he'd started Hogwarts, except for the occasional slap to the top of his head. Although, come to think of it he seemed to remember Uncle Vernon taking a swing for him any number of times, but in the past he'd always been able to duck out of the way. Why then was he feeling so shocked? Was it just because this time the hit had actually connected? Was that why Uncle Vernon was so surprised as well? For a moment it looked like he was almost scared of what he had done.

Harry walked over to his mirror, making sure to stomp his feet so he could be heard downstairs. The skin around his right eye had turned a vivid red colour and was tender to the touch. He'd probably have an almighty bruise in a few hours. He wondered how long it would be until he was fed. He hadn't managed to catch any breakfast this morning and had missed dinner last night. They wouldn't leave it too long would they? They must still be scared of what the Order would do to them if he were mistreated no matter what their plans were.

He sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. All he really had to do was wait until Hedwig came back and send the Order a letter telling them he didn't want to be here. He could understand the Dursley's fears. Ever since he'd come back to Surrey there had been news reports of strange occurrences, missing people and violent murders. Even the muggles were noticing that something wasn't right and the Dursleys, being in the know, knew better than most what these sorts of things meant. Voldemort was back.

The Dursleys may not know the whole story of what happened that night on Halloween, but they knew that Voldemort had tried to kill Harry and the letter Dumbledore left with him probably explained that Harry would always be a target because of what happened that night, if nothing else.

No, Harry couldn't blame them, but he didn't plan to abide by their rules either.

At lunch time Petunia brought him up a sandwich. Harry was surprised that she had gone to even that much effort and that the bread was neither mouldy or stale. He could only suppose they really were trying to keep the Order appeased.

The Order! He couldn't belive he'd been so stupid. The Order were watching the house! They'd know that the Dursleys hadn't taken him on holiday. Not only that, but Harry didn't have to wait for Hedwig to get word to them, all he had to do was find his guard without alerting the Dursleys to what he was doing.

Unforunately that was easier said than done. His window, while big enough for Hedwig to get in and out, was not quite big enough for him to squeeze through. Even if he could, there was no way for him to get safely to the ground and once down he wouldn't be able to get back up unless he went through the house, which would alert the Dursleys to what he'd been doing. Even if he did get out it would be difficult to find the Order member on duty as they stayed hidden under invisibility cloaks. He could drop a letter out the window and hope they found it, but there was an equal likelihood of Aunt Petunia finding it first. Unless he waited until he was absolutely positive an invisible someone was in the back garden.

He hopped up onto his desk, moving Hedwig's cage out of the way, and sat staring out into the garden. It was an uncomfortable place to sit, but he was determined he wouldn't leave until he'd accomplished his mission. Not like he had many places to go anyway.

Outside the sun was shining brightly and Harry yearned to go walking as he usually did. He strained his eyes for the slightest movement, anything that would give a hidden watcher away. Every few moments he'd start and stare expectantly until he realised that whatever it was that had caught his eye was probably just a summer breeze.

As he sat there, parchment and quill on his lap, trying to compose a letter that didn't make him look totally pathetic and watching the outside world, his mind wandered in directions he wished it wouldn't. For some reason he kept imagining Dumbledore's office at the end of last term when he had thrown various trinkets against the wall and screamed at Dumbledore. Even now he wasn't sure if he blamed Dumbedore or not for Sirius' death. It was true that if he had told Harry about the prophecy or that it was possible for Voldemort to give him fake visions then it might not have happened, but then had Harry really been emotionally prepared to deal with the prophecy before now? Was he prepared even now? He'd spent so much of the last year angry with everyone, feeling like he was under so much pressure he might snap at any moment, knowledge of the prophecy might have calmed him, or it might have sent him over the edge. And he could understand that Dumbledore had wanted him to enjoy as much of his childhood as possible, even if the idea was ludicrous. But the Occlumency thing... now that was Dumbledore's fault.

Those lessons should never have happened. The only useful thing Harry had got out of them was... well he hadn't really gotten anything out of them except bad headaches and bruised knees. If Dumbledore hadn't been prepared to teach Harry himself then he should have found someone that could work with him, not Snape, never Snape. Any fool could see that they hated each other. Forcing them together was quite possibly the worst idea in the history of the human race. The final result was, if nothing else, predictable.

Snape himself was a whole different story. He'd done nothing but belittle Sirius and goad him into doing something stupid. He hadn't taught Harry Occlumency, hadn't really tried. His teaching methods consisted of screaming and cursing, not the best way for someone to learn something. Harry wasn't looking forward to seeing the Potions Master again. Although that might not be much of a problem if he didn't get the OWL result he needed.

Come to think of it, hadn't Hermione said the OWL results would arrive yesterday? There hadn't been a sign of an owl all day. Maybe he'd misread her.

Of course, a lot of the blame for Sirius' death lay with Harry. Maybe if he'd put more effort into Occlumency, or thought just a little bit more or if he'd only listened to Hermione who tried to tell him it could be a trap. Most of the time when he was awake he tried to push that guilt to the back of his mind, but it was always there eating away at him. If only, if only, if only...

And then there was Sirius. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't help but blame Sirius a little too. Harry had been told over and over how reckless he'd been that night, but Sirius had been just as reckless, leaving the safety of headquarters to break into the Ministry. If he had lived then he might have been arrested and sent back to Azkaban, or worse, given the Dementor's Kiss. After successfully getting into the Ministry he had continued to act as though he were out for a summer stroll, laughing in Bellatrix's face instead of taking her seriously and when he hadn't given her his full attention she had delivered the hex that sent him through the veil.

At dinner time Petunia brought him a plate of food that he scarfed down in no time. He stayed staring out the window until it got too dark to see at which time Vernon came to let him use the bathroom and take a shower. Afterwards he was locked back in. Harry knew he could have run during those minutes of freedom, but there was almost no chance he'd make it out the front door. Besides Hedwig would return soon and he'd be out of here, there was no point in angering his uncle in the meantime.

That night he went to bed feeling more depressed than he had that morning. Just before he drifted off it suddenly occurred to him that he had just spent his entire birthday locked up.

The next day passed in much the same way except that Hedwig returned during the afternoon. Harry immediately sent her off again with a letter to the Order, but not before she fussed all over him, gently rubbing her beak against his bruised cheek. As he watched her soar out the window he wondered once again where his OWL results had gotten to. There was no reason he could think of for them to be this late.

Later that evening found Harry lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't even blink when the door was unlocked and yanked open. "We're going out," Vernon barked.

Harry remained motionless. The Dursleys never took him anywhere if they could help it, there was no reason to think this would be the exception.

"Against my better judgement, you're coming too," Vernon said bitterly.

Harry sat up quickly. He would actually get to spend a few hours outside the house? In any other circumstances he would have been thrilled, but to spend an evening in the presence of the Dursleys was an excruciating kind of torture.

"Your aunt thinks you can't be trusted on your own and I'm inclined to agree with her. We all remember what happened last year when we went out and left you on your own, we came home and found you gone. Well you can think again, boy because you're not leaving my sight."

"Fine," Harry said sullenly.

"Put on some decent clothes and come downstairs," Vernon ordered and he was gone, leaving the door wide open.

Over the last two days Harry had felt stifled here in his room and desperate for a little freedom, but now, looking at the open door, he was reluctant to leave his room and unwilling to inflict the Dursleys upon himself.

He took his time going downstairs, not wanting his uncle to believe he was at all cowed after his days of imprisonment. He was still wearing his overly baggy jeans and a t-shirt that had what looked to be a curry stain down the front.

"I told you to change your clothes," Vernon growled. Petunia had turned up her nose at him as soon as he'd walked in the room, either offended by his baggy clothes or his mere presence, Harry wasn't sure which.

"All my clothes used to belong to Dudley," Harry pointed out. "Unless you want me to wear my school robes this is the best I have." That wasn't strictly true, but he wasn't prepared to tell them he'd used some of the money his parents had left him to buy a few decent things for himself. That would only result in their demanding he turn the money over to them.

As usual the mere mention of Harry's school especially in combination with the word 'robes' had Vernon's face turning a mottled purple colour.

Petunia sniffed disdainfully. "Leave him, Vernon. No one will be looking at him anyway." She patted Dudley on the head. "This is our Dudders night and_ he_ won't be allowed to ruin it."

Harry suppressed a groan. Any activity in Dudley's honour was bound to leave Harry bored out of his mind and that was only if he was lucky.

He reluctantly followed the Dursleys out to the car and climbed in next to Dudley who was practically jumping up and down in his seat with excitement. He was beginning to get a stirring of curiosity about their destination, but he refused to ask. The journey only took about ten minutes in which Petunia gushed endlessly about how proud she was of her 'precious little angel.'

They got out of the car outside what seemed to be some kind of leisure centre. Harry pulled a face. What sort of activity could possibly bring the Dursleys here and get Dudley, of all people, so excited?

He got his answer seconds later. A banner hung above the door proclaiming a boxing tournament. Harry groaned quietly to himself. There was no way he wanted to sit and watch his cousin pounding on people in a ring while people cheered. He'd seen quite enough of that for one lifetime. He was fortunate not to be heard by his uncle who was too busy beaming with pride as Dudley strutted ahead of them.

An hour later and it was even worse than Harry had expected. Dudley had fought in one of the first matches and won and would soon be beginning his second. Harry couldn't remember ever feeling quite this bored, not even in History of Magic and that was saying something. The worst part was seeing his cousin wearing little more than a pair of baggy shorts and a tank top, an image that was sure to replace his normal nightmares for weeks to come.

"That's my boy!" Vernon yelled as Dudley stepped back into the ring grinning widely. His opponent was about two inches taller than him, but weighed far less. By the way he was nervously eyeing Dudley he probably wouldn't put up much of a fight.

Petunia screamed shrill words of encouragement that Harry tried to block out as he prayed that someone would beat Dudley soon so they could go home. That might actually be something worth seeing.

"Wotcha Harry," a voice whispered close to his ear.

Harry whipped round, one hand straying to the pocket in which he'd hidden his wand. He couldn't see anything, but that voice sounded very familiar. "Tonks?"

"Yeah, it's me," the voice replied. "Think you can get away from tubby and the horse?"

Harry glanced surreptitiously at his uncle who was now wholly absorbed in the fight and not paying the slightest attention to Harry. It was the best opportunity he'd had to sneak away all night. Silently he stood and edged away, keeping a careful eye on Vernon in case he happened to turn around.

He didn't and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to break free of the crowd and fall into the corridor. "Tonks?" he called lowly.

"Right here." There was a swish of cloth and Nymphadora Tonks appeared from underneath an invisibility cloak. Today she was sporting her usual pink hair, but her eyes were an astonishing violet. Sometimes Harry wondered if she were a bit colour blind. "Come on, Moody's waiting for us outside."

"Wait," Harry called after her. "How do I know you're really Tonks?"

Tonks sighed. "Does this help?" She squinted slightly so she was looking at the end of her nose which promptly changed into a pig snout.

Harry grinned. "That'll do."

He followed her through the corridors and back out into the car park. "He should be here any moment," Tonks muttered. "Remus went to get your stuff and Moody's up on the roof doing surveillance. He wanted to bring more guards, but Dumbledore talked him out of it. It's not like a whole group of us could have fit under the cloak to sneak in there and get you out."

Harry nodded. "You got my letter then."

"Yeah," Tonks smiled. "We figured it was out of character for the Dursleys to want to take you anywhere and we knew from watching the house that they were lying. The original plan was to wait for them to go out so we could sneak you out of the house, we never thought they would take you along."

"I think they were expecting you to show up the moment they left. That's why they brought me."

Tonks studied him closely. "What's that?" she asked suddenly, pointing at his cheek.

Harry tensed, remembering his bruise. "It's nothing," he said quickly. "I, er, just walked into a door."

"Why'd they go so crazy anyway?" Tonks enquired eyeing him sceptically. Harry was sure she suspected the truth, but at least she'd dropped it.

"Aunt Petunia told Uncle Vernon about the blood protection and he flipped," Harry told her. "He wanted me to stay there forever just to make sure they stay safe."

Tonks shot him a sympathetic look. "I'll tell Dumbledore. We'll work something out before next summer." She glanced around quickly before pulling out her wand and pointing it at Harry's cheek. "_Episkey,_" she muttered and hid her wand up her sleeve.

"I'll be seventeen next summer," Harry complained. "I don't see why I have to go back there."

"If it were up to me I'd make sure you didn't have to, but as it is..."

"Yeah, I know," Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore thinks it best that I go back there."

"We just want you alive, Harry," Tonks said gently.

"Which would be a much easier job if we didn't have to contend with amateur aurors who stand out in the open making the person they're supposed to be protecting an open target."

Tonks flushed as she turned to face Mad-Eye Moody. "We were talking."

"Your job is to protect Potter, not be his friend," Moody snapped. "While you were standing here _talking_ anyone could have snuck up on you and you would both be dead before you could draw your wand. Then where would we be?"

"Sorry," Tonks muttered.

Moody grunted and turned to Harry. "Come along, Potter. Stick close."

Harry fell in behind Moody with Tonks close behind him. She made no effort to talk to him now, concentrating on their surroundings with her wand held close to her body to hide it from the view of passing muggles.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked quietly.

"As soon as we're out of sight we'll be taking a portkey to the Weasley's place," Moody said briskly.

Harry's heart soared. He had been half worried that he would only be moved from one prison to another, this time in the form of Sirius' old family home. He almost preferred the Dursleys to that option. He didn't know if he could have handled walking into that dismal house, knowing that Sirius wasn't there and would never be there again.

Moody stopped behind the building, his magical eye scanning the surrounding area for anyone who happened to be watching and pulled a ladle from beneath his cloak. Harry could only assume it was the portkey.

"Alright then, Potter, you know what to do," Moody said gruffly.

Reluctantly, because he'd never learned to trust portkeys, Harry reached out one hand to touch the ladle. Opposite him Tonks did the same. A moment later the three of them disappeared.


	3. The Burrow

Chapter 3 – The Burrow

Almost instantly they reappeared outside the Burrow and Harry couldn't quite suppress the grin that spread across his face. Just the sight of the house filled him with joy.

Moody was ushering him forward, glancing about nervously with his magical eye spinning. Tonks seemed much more at ease, but still held her wand tightly. She pushed open the front door without knocking and held it open for Harry.

As soon as he entered the kitchen there were calls of "Harry," and he was almost immediately pulled into a tight hug. Judging by the bushy hair in his face it was Hermione holding him. Over her shoulder he could see Ron and Ginny beaming at him and Mrs Weasley was approaching quickly. As soon as Hermione let him go he was quickly embraced by Mrs Weasley who looked close to tears.

"I knew something was wrong the moment I saw that letter," she said wiping her eyes with a wisp of a handkerchief. "I wanted to come and get you right away, but Dumbledore insisted we should wait a day or two to avoid an argument with your relatives."

"It's alright Mrs Weasley," Harry said honestly. "I'm just glad I'm out of there now."

"Well, no harm done, I suppose, although you are much too thin," she said, patting his hair gently. Harry wanted to bat her hand away, but knew she'd been worried so he let her fuss for a bit. "Remus dropped off your trunk earlier, but he left straight away. You should probably check to make sure he got everything."

Harry's heart sank a little when he heard that he wouldn't be seeing Lupin tonight. At the same time he was a little relieved that he wouldn't have to face his ex-professor for the first time since Sirius' death. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help being a little scared the man would blame him for getting Sirius killed.

Mrs Weasley bustled away. "We were just about to sit down for dinner," she called over her shoulder. "Alastor, Tonks, would you like to stay? There's plenty."

"Thanks all the same, Molly," Tonks said. "But we're both on duty later."

Moody stumped towards the door. "We'd best be off. Take care, Potter."

Hermione took Harry's hand and led him to the table that was slowly being filled with food. He sat opposite Ron with Hermione at his side while Ginny laid out knives and forks. Harry was about to speak when he heard a clatter of noise from the stairs and the twins bounded into the room as if they'd been shot from a canon.

"Harry, old chum," Fred said heartily. "Good of you to come at last."

"When we heard you were being held by the evil Dursleys we begged to be a part of the rescue mission," George announced, "so that we might seek vengeance upon them for their crimes."

Fred laid the back of his hand upon his forehead and threw his head back. "Alas it was not to be and we were forced to wait here while others sought your release."

Harry wasn't sure if he should be amused by their antics or mortified that they were talking as if he were some kind of damsel in distress and they were the white knights charging to the rescue.

"We are filled with joy to see you safe once more, dearest honorary Weasley," George said, clapping Harry's shoulder. "And we pray that never again shall you be subjected to the evil that is the Dursleys."

"Me too," Harry muttered.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said excitedly. "I forgot to tell you that Dad's been promoted. He's Head of the Muggle Relations Office now."

"Really?" Harry said, grinning broadly. If anyone deserved it then Mr Weasley did. "That's great."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It means he's at work a lot more, but the pay's better."

"It's a lot more responsibility," Hermione pointed out. "Especially at times like these."

Harry began to relax as dinner was served. The atmosphere was light hearted and for the first time in weeks he was surrounded by people who actually wanted to talk to him and were glad to have him around.

"Your birthday presents are upstairs," Mrs Weasley said brightly as she passed the potatoes over to Ginny. "All your friends sent them here as this was where you were supposed to be, but... well never mind that now. I'm only sorry you couldn't open them yesterday. Still, better late than never."

Harry smiled his thanks. Sometimes he was still a little overwhelmed at the thought of presents and was glad in a way that he wouldn't have to open them in front of everyone. He wasn't bothered that he hadn't gotten them on his birthday, just the thought that people cared amazed him. Still, it would have been nice to have the party Ron had mentioned and to celebrate his birthday like a normal teenager.

They had cake for dessert. It was a huge chocolate one with candles all over it and 'Happy Birthday Harry' piped over it in icing. Mrs Weasley lit the candles so Harry could blow them out. Harry tried to tell her it wasn't necessary, but she insisted and privately Harry was rather glad she did.

While they were eating Ginny kept glancing at him in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. "Mum," she said when she had finished, though her gaze remained fixed on Harry. "I'm going to go write a letter to Dean."

Hermione was also studying Harry, but whatever she saw must have disappointed her because she sighed disconsolately as Ginny left the room.

"Let's go upstairs," Ron said quickly, eyeing the dishes.

Harry followed his two best friends up the stairs, quietly reflecting that it was a bit strange to be around so many people who wanted to talk to him after days of being locked away and ignored. He realised he'd been a bit quiet during dinner, but summers with the Dursleys always left him with the feeling he should sit and watch people rather than interact with them.

Once they were ensconced in Ron's room at the top of the house Hermione pulled a rather worn looking envelope from her pocket.

Ron snorted. "It's a good thing you're finally here, mate," he said to Harry. "She's had that thing out every couple of minutes, just looking at it. I swear the suspense has almost driven her mad." He rooted around in a draw for a minute or so before pulling out an envelope of his own.

"Well, excuse me for being a bit nervous, Ron," Hermione retorted tartly. "These results only tell us what possible careers we could have as well as determining what classes we can take next year." She turned and glanced at Harry. "Your trunk's over there. You'd better check Professor Lupin got everything you'll need. Then we can all open our results together and you can open your presents."

"Er... right, but I didn't get mine," Harry said.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "How could you not have them? They send out everyone's together."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know why I didn't get them. They just didn't come."

Hermione stared from him to the envelope in her hands. "We should tell Mrs Weasley. Or maybe we could send a letter to the examinations board." She was folding the envelope up again ever so slowly.

Ron carelessly chucked his over his shoulder to land on the floor.

"You two should open yours," Harry said firmly. "Who knows how long it will take to get mine?"

Hermione glanced up at him hopefully. "Really?"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have to wait any longer." He knew how much these results meant to her and he was a little awed that she'd managed to wait this long.

She smiled happily for a moment before her expression was replaced with one of absolute terror. Not even charging into the cellars of Hogwarts to rescue the Philosopher's stone had scared her so much. After a long moment of deliberation she thrust the envelope towards Harry. "You open it. I can't."

Ron retrieved his own results from the floor and ripped them open, apparently fed up with the amount of drama Hermione was bringing into this. He perused the contents for only a moment or two before laughing in delight. "Not bad," he grinned. "I failed History of Magic and Divination. No real loss there. The rest are all 'Exceeds Expectations' and 'Acceptables.'"

"Oh, well done, Ron," Hermione gushed. "I told you if you only applied yourself you would do well. Your parents will be so proud."

Harry felt a familiar sting at her words, yet another reminder that no matter how hard he tried at school he would never hear his own parents tell him they were proud, or for that matter if they were disappointed in him. And now Sirius would never be able to tell him that either. Rather than begin to mope he tore Hermione's envelope open and gazed at the parchment that fell out.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results.**

_Outstanding (O)_

_Exceeds Expectations (E)_

_Acceptable (A)_

_Poor (P)_

_Dreadful (D)_

_Troll (T)_

_Please note that 'P' and below is a fail and you will not be able to take that subject on to NEWT level._

Harry kept his face impassive as he examined the parchment. Hermione was clutching her face so tightly her skin was turning white around her fingers. "Well?" she gasped out.

Harry considered letting her stew for a while, but decided that was just cruel. "All 'Outstandings' except for DADA and that's an 'Exceeds Expectations.'"

Much to his surprise, far from being thrilled with the news Hermione looked like she was about to burst into tears.

Ron and Harry exchanged a bewildered look. "Hermione, those are great," Ron said enthusiastically. "Probably top of the year."

"Oh, yes, I suppose," Hermione said, looking away. "I just..."

"You can do anything you want with those grades," Harry tried. "At least you can choose your classes now." He had learnt long ago that the best way to cheer up Hermione was to give her something else to think about, preferably something involving school work.

"That's right," Hermione jumped up and ran out of the room.

Ron smirked. "Wanna bet she'll spend the rest of the night nagging us about picking the right courses?"

"You maybe," Harry said lightly. "I don't know what classes I'm eligible for yet."

Ron scowled. "Great, so I get the full brunt of it."

Hermione burst back in a few minutes later carrying a handful of pamphlets. "I picked these up last term," she explained, spreading them out across Ron's bed. "They tell you about all the possible careers and suggest what classes are needed."

"Well, I want to be an Auror," Ron told her.

Hermione rummaged around before picking up a pamphlet and leafing through it. "Here we are. You need Potions, Transfiguration and Charms as well as Defence Against the Dark Arts. Did you get an 'O' in Potions? Professor McGonagall said Professor Snape will only take on students who got 'Outstandings' in their OWLs."

"Nah," Ron said dismissively. "I got an 'A.' Guess I'll have to think of something else."

Hermione gazed at him expectantly.

"What?" Ron demanded. "You want an answer this second?"

"No," Hermione said defensively. "But you've had loads of time to think about your options. You must have some kind of back up plan."

"I've had other things to worry about alright?" Ron said from between clenched teeth.

"Like what? It's the summer holidays and we haven't had hardly any homework this year," Hermione pointed out.

Ron snorted. "You call that 'hardly any?'"

Harry briefly considered stepping in to help Ron out, but he knew if he did that Hermione would only start badgering him, so instead he tuned out their bickering and turned his thoughts inward as he moved to check his trunk.

Like Ron he had considered being an Auror, had even said as much in his careers session with McGonagall, but he wasn't so sure that was what he still wanted. For one thing, knowing he was destined to fight the scariest bad guy of them all didn't really make him want to think about doing it for the rest of his life. On the other hand what better career was there for him? He frowned deeply as he tried to think of anything he really wanted to spend his life doing, but came up blank. Wasn't there anything he was more suited to than fighting?

Of course this would all come to nothing unless he survived the prophecy and from where he was sitting the chances of that were looking pretty slim. As the argument between his two best friends came to a close he decided that as long as his own results allowed he would just take all the Auror classes and worry about his future when Voldemort was dead. If he died before that happened then it wouldn't matter anyway.

He was brought back to the present when he realised Hermione was saying his name.

"Harry," she said gently. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied quickly. "Just a bit tired. Looks like everything's here. I packed the other day and never bothered to unpack."

"Hmm," she gave him a sceptical look, but let it pass. "I'll leave you two to get some sleep then," she said before sweeping out of the room.

The next morning Harry stumbled down the stairs to find most of the Weasley's and Hermione already eating breakfast. Mrs Weasley immediately jumped up and started piling toast and sausages on a plate for him. It seemed she was on yet another crusade to fatten him up.

"Here you are, dear," she said, setting it down in front of him. "Would you like anything else?"

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "Hermione told me about your results. We'll floo the Headmaster later and ask him to look into it. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."

"Thanks, Mr Weasley," Harry said gratefully.

Fred let in the owl that was hovering at the window and it flew straight to Hermione who relieved it of its burden and dropped a coin in the pouch tied to its leg.

"You're still getting the _Daily Prophet_?" Ron asked her.

"They may not be very honest or reliable, but I like to have some idea of what's going on," Hermione said, shaking out the newspaper and glancing at the front page.

"Anything I should know about?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Not so far," Hermione said distractedly.

"I'm sure they're still talking about you being the 'Chosen One,'" Ron said with a slight snort.

Harry's heart froze. They were calling him what? They couldn't know about the prophecy could they? He looked around, trying to appear nonchalant. "I didn't realise they were calling me that."

Mrs Weasley was frowning. "Don't you pay it any attention, dear. They have no right to be expecting you to fight You-Know-Who. You're a child, not a warrior."

Harry swallowed hard. Would everyone really be looking to him to stop Voldemort now? He knew the prophecy said it was up to him, but he hadn't expected anyone else to know about it. He didn't think he could take the pressure of all those expectations.

"It's been going on since the Department of Mysteries," Ginny said quietly. "Somehow they found out we were there and that there was a fight in the Hall of Prophecies and they've run with the idea. They think there's a prophecy foretelling you killing Voldemort."

"It's rubbish," Mrs Weasley said harshly. "I refuse to read it anymore."

Harry fought to keep his face blank. Hermione in particular was very good at telling when something was bothering him, but her nose was still buried in the _Prophet._

Mr Weasley, on the other hand, was looking right at him and he seemed concerned. He leaned over to whisper so only Harry could hear him. "The people that know you don't expect you to be anything but yourself."

"Thanks," Harry muttered and forced himself to put it out of his mind. Beside him Hermione turned the page and took a sip of her drink which turned out to be a mistake as she spat it out a moment later.

"Oh my God!" she said hysterically. "They can't... Are they allowed to do that?"

Harry leaned over slightly to read over her shoulder and gaped at what he saw. A large photo of him headed the page. Harry was unsurprised to see even his picture self seemed unhappy with the article he was heading.

_**Chosen One Achieves Top Results**_

_Two days ago OWL (Ordinary Wizarding Level) results were sent out to all students who took the difficult exams this May. While for the most part this is a common place occurrence for sixteen year old witches and wizards there is one student this year that is far from ordinary._

_We are, naturally, talking about Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived and more recently the Chosen One, who with these results has shown us that our faith in him has not been misplaced._

_While not the top student of the year, an honour that falls to Hermione Granger, muggle-born witch and once girlfriend to Mr Potter, Harry has achieved marks that would have made his parents very proud, including an award for the highest ever grade in Defence Against the Dark Arts..._

Harry closed his mouth with a snap, unable to believe what he was seeing. On the opposite page he found an enlarged image which looked a lot like Hermione's results letter only it was his own name at the top.

_**Harry James Potter has achieved:**_

_Astronomy - A_

_Care of Magical Creatures - E_

_Charms - E_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts - O_

_Divination - P_

_Herbology - E_

_History of Magic - D_

_Potions - O_

_Transfiguration - E_

Harry wasn't sure whether he should be laughing with relief that his results were in fact quite good and he could take all the classes he wanted to, or if he should be horrified that now any wizard who reads the paper would know exactly what those results were. Finally horror won out and with a mumbled "excuse me," he hurried out the back door.

He found himself in the overgrown back garden. He was filled with a restless energy that made him want to pace, but at the same time he wanted to hide from the world and their expectations and newspaper articles. He was relieved that no one followed him out. He really needed a few minutes just to calm down and the garden was the perfect place to do that. He had always felt far more at peace outdoors, which was one of the reasons he had taken to walking around Privet Drive as far back as he could remember.

He dropped down onto the grass and leaned back against a tree. The words of that article were spinning around in his mind and he clenched his eyes closed, hoping to shut them out. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him as opposed to someone who would actually welcome the attention, like Draco Malfoy? But the world never worked like that. The people that crave fame rarely get it and the ones like Harry, who just wanted to be normal, have it thrust upon them.

The back door opened and a few moments later someone sat next to him, resting their head on his shoulder. He tensed slightly at the contact, but stopped himself from pulling away.

"Hermione?"

"Yes," she murmured quietly.

"They're good grades, mate," Ron said. "You don't need to feel embarrassed."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Try and be a bit sensitive."

"What? They _are_ good."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "But that's obviously not what Harry's upset about."

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. "Do you think they would be?"

Hermione frowned, clearly not expecting that question. "Who?"

"My parents. Do you think they would be proud of me?" He quite surprised himself that not only would he voice that aloud, but that it was the first thing that he asked.

Hermione wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "I think they would be. You can take any classes you want except for History and Divination. And it's not just about your grades. You're a good person. You're brave and loyal and honest. From what I've heard of your parents those were qualities they valued."

"And your dad would have been impressed with your skill on a broom," Ron added. "What?" he exclaimed when Hermione shot him a glare. "Mr Potter was a Quidditch player too, he would've been proud when Harry became the youngest seeker in a century."

Harry grinned despite himself. "From what Sirius told me he was as obsessive about Quidditch as you are."

"There, see," Ron said smugly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you want to talk about Sirius? It might help."

Harry shook his head emphatically. "Not yet."

"Alright, but don't forget I'm here when you're ready."

"In the meantime, we could get Ginny and the twins and go flying," Ron suggested eagerly.

"Ron! Harry's upset he doesn't want to go flying."

"Why not? Flying always makes me feel better," Ron retorted.

Hermione snorted. "Just because you have the attention span of a flea unless Quidditch is involved doesn't mean that Harry does. He needs to talk about this or he'll never get over it."

"Somehow I don't think talking is going to help all that much," Harry shrugged. Even if he'd wanted to talk to Hermione he wouldn't have felt comfortable with Ron there. Besides, he didn't want to bother them with his problems.

"See," Ron said pointedly.

"Harry, I really don't think..."

"I want to go flying," Harry said decisively, dislodging Hermione's arm and standing quickly before she could object again.

As Harry raced off to get his broom he couldn't help but be a bit annoyed with his two best friends. Hermione, as was her usual trick, kept trying to make him talk about how he felt when he really wasn't sure about that himself while Ron didn't seem quite sure what the problem was, but then Ron, like Malfoy, was one of those people who would like the attention. As always comforting him had turned into the two bickering. One day they'd either end up snogging each other silly or get into such a huge row that they would never be able to sit comfortably in the same room ever again. Either way Harry half dreaded that day because even though he wanted them to be happy he knew that once it happened things would never be the same again.

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Hermione sighed as she watched the two boys run off. Yet again, against her better judgement, Harry had gotten away without discussing his latest difficulties and sooner or later it was all going to catch up with him and when it did it was going to be messy.

Ginny came darting out of the house, her broom in hand and skidded to a stop beside Hermione. "Harry asked me to go flying with him," she said excitedly.

Hermione winced. "Oh, Ginny, don't read too much into it. It was Ron's idea. I think they're inviting the twins too."

Ginny's face fell. "Oh." She sat down on the grass dejectedly. "What about last night? You never said."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I don't know what you were hoping for, but Harry didn't even react when you mentioned Dean."

Ginny dropped her head. "So you think there's no chance," she whispered in a voice close to tears.

"I didn't say that," Hermione said quickly. "Only that he's not giving anything away."

"If only I knew either way," Ginny sighed.

"Harry can be very closed off sometimes. Clueless too. It might take something quite drastic to make him wake up and notice you, but I think you can be quite certain that he won't make the first move even then."

"Is that what Cho did?" Ginny asked icily.

Hermione half smiled. "He fancied her for two years, but if she hadn't kissed him first he would still be pining over her. It's what all those girls that flirt with him at school don't understand: Harry's really quite shy, you know."

Ginny straightened. "So you think I should kiss him?"

"No," Hermione said, trying to stifle a laugh at imagining Harry's face if faced with a Ginny Weasley who was trying to jump him. "Though perhaps you should be a bit more obvious that you fancy him, maybe let him know that you broke up with Dean."

Ginny pursed her lips. "I think I've been obvious enough. Do you not remember me putting my elbow in the butter dish, or the fact that I couldn't say a word around him for years?"

"Oh, I remember," Hermione said. "But that was before you went out with Michael. I did what you asked and told him you'd given up on him. As far as he's concerned that means you no longer fancy him."

"I thought he'd maybe get a bit jealous," Ginny said. "But then he was so involved with Cho he didn't care _what I_ was doing."

Privately Hermione was convinced Harry wouldn't have noticed anything at all were it not for Ron's reaction to Michael Corner. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You may also have to convince him Ron wouldn't be averse to the idea of you two together. You know that Harry would never go out with you if he thought Ron was against it." She hadn't missed the less than subtle looks Ron had been giving Harry when trying to convince his little sister that she should find someone better suited for her.

Ginny was about to reply when four people exploded out of the back door of the Burrow and headed their way. "More obvious, right?" she whispered and jumped up to join them, her broom in hand.

"Sure you don't want to play, Hermione?" Ron asked.

Hermione smiled slightly and shook her head. She'd never been too keen on flying in any form. It had been all she could do to get on the plane she'd taken to Spain earlier that summer.

Ginny had linked her arm through Harry's who looked startled and a little bit bemused as they moved off.

Hermione sat back against the tree. In a little while she'd go and get a book, but for now she was content to watch.

She felt a little bad for interfering with Harry and Ginny, but it wasn't like she'd betrayed any confidences or told Ginny the secret to Harry's heart. All she'd done was give Ginny a chance and if Harry wasn't interested then hopefully he'd let her down in a tactful way. If he was – and sometimes it was impossible to tell with Harry – then they might just end up deliriously happy together. All the same, maybe she _should_ warn Harry.

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Harry was quite relieved when Ginny detached herself from his arm. He wasn't quite sure what that was about, but put it down to one of those strange things that girls do that he would never understand. Probably she was feeling sorry for him because of that article and was trying to cheer him up.

They mounted their brooms and soared up into the sky over the Weasley's makeshift Quidditch pitch. As soon as his feet left the ground Harry felt that wonderful floating feeling in his stomach that he always associated with flying.

As there were so few of them they weren't going to play a proper game. Instead they got a quaffle and started a free-for-all with all of them trying to score and all of them trying to prevent the others making goals. Harry very quickly realised that he would never make a great Chaser. While he was good at catching, his throwing arm wasn't all that impressive, prompting a bit of teasing from the twins. Ron, on the other hand was better at throwing than catching and Harry wondered if maybe Keeper wasn't the best position for him. The twins were fairly good, but the real surprise was Ginny who was easily the winner of the day.

At one point Mrs Weasley brought out some drinks for them and then they went back up into the air until lunch time. It was as Hermione called up to tell them to come and wash up that Harry saw it.

Just inside the tree line there were intermittent flashes of different coloured lights. Harry stared at them for almost a full minute before he realised what he was seeing.

"Get down," he yelled suddenly, pushing his broom into a dive. The others, who had been descending anyway, followed suit. As soon as his feet touched the ground Harry took off running towards the house.

"What is it?" Ron panted.

"Someone's casting spells over by the trees," Harry explained, slowing slightly now the house was in sight.

"Then why aren't we going that way?" Fred gasped out.

Harry shook his head firmly. "It's too open and they've got the trees to hide in. They'd just pick us off one by one, but if we get inside we'll be able to take cover and if they get through then _they'll_ be the easy targets."

"You're the expert," George shrugged, yanking the kitchen door open.


	4. Shadows in the Wood

Chapter 4 – Shadows in the Woods.

They all piled inside to see an anxious Mrs Weasley studying a small red stone. It seemed to pulse, almost like a heartbeat, darker then light again.

"Oh, thank goodness," she exclaimed when she saw them. "I saw you running to the house so I knew you must have seen it."

"Are they really trying to get through the wards?" Hermione asked. Her face was pale, but she clutched her wand determinedly.

"Yes," Mrs Weasley confirmed. "But we should be alright. The Order are on their way and even if they weren't those wards will keep them busy for quite some time."

"I didn't realise you had such good wards," Harry said.

"Well, it's all because of you, dear," Mrs Weasley said turning her attention back to the stone that still pulsed rythmically. "The Ministry insisted that if you were going to stay here we needed the best wards available."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Normally he would have hated knowing that the Weasley's had been put to so much trouble because of him, but in this case it might have saved their lives.

Sudden voices in the next room interrupted his thoughts and Mrs Weasley thrust the stone into Ginny's hands. "Yell if this changes," she said before bustling off.

The twins exchanged a look before following her while Harry crept to the door where he could see the Order members climbing out of the fireplace, but not so close that he was sent away. None of them looked very impressive. There were the older Weasley's and tiny old Elphias Doge, Professor McGonagall, Emmeline Vance and numerous other people he hadn't met before. Moody was there too with Tonks.

"What is that?" Hermione asked Ginny, eyeing the stone with interest.

"Ward stone," Ginny replied simply. "It monitors the wards. Blue means normal and red means someone's trying to force their way in. As long as it continues to pulse the wards are still holding."

Everyone seemed to be through now and they marched past Harry, through the kitchen and out the back door. Before Harry could follow them Arthur Weasley turned and blocked the door.

"We need you to defend the house," he said. "Just in case someone gets past us."

Ron scowled. "In other words, stay here like good little children."

"That's not fair," Ginny argued. "We fought Death Eaters at the Ministry last month, we can take care of ourselves."

Mr Weasley sighed. "We can handle this. There's no need to risk all of you as well." He glanced at Harry. "Especially as that may be exactly what they want. Stay here with your mum." Without another word he turned and left.

Harry glared at the ground, seething silently. After everything he had done he was being shoved under the metaphorical table yet again. He wanted to fight. Anything to end this as soon as possible. It was like he was made of china.

Mrs Weasley seemed to sense the tension in the room. "Let's all go into the sitting room where we can watch the clock," she said quickly. "That will make all of us feel more involved." She ushered Ron and Ginny along, gesturing for the other two to follow.

Harry paused. For a full minute he considered doing what he was told, but then he remembered the prophecy. If he couldn't even take on a few Death Eaters then how was he ever going to be able to defeat Voldemort? So with a sidelong glance at the doorway his friends had passed through he turned and ran out the back door.

Once outside he kept running and didn't stop until he could see the light of spell-fire up ahead. He slowed, dropped into a crouch and began to circle around so he could stay out of sight of both sides and come at the Death Eaters from out of the tree line.

He broke through the first few trees and came to a complete stop, just listening. He desperately tried to slow the frantic beating of his heart that was pounding in his ears. From somewhere to the left came the unmistakeable sounds of yelling voices. As he drew his wand he wished he'd had time to stop and grab his invisibility cloak.

He crept through the trees, scanning around him for any sign of movement. As far as he could see all he needed to do was distract the Death Eaters long enough for the Order to get under the trees where they would be on a more equal footing. From this side of the wards the Quidditch field at the back of the Burrow looked like farmland, he even thought he saw an old raggedy scarecrow.

Harry came to a sudden halt and hastily hid behind a tree when he saw about a dozen figures up ahead, but they weren't dressed in the traditional black robes of Death Eaters. Instead they were dressed in costumes in various shades of green and brown. The clothes themselves seemed more old-fashioned muggle in design than wizarding, reminding Harry of some of the period costumes on the television shows Aunt Petunia liked to watch. Whoever these people were they blended into the background far better than Death Eaters ever did.

As he studied them he noted that only two of the group had wands, the others were armed with all kinds of medieval weaponry, like bows and arrows and swords. Exactly who were these people? And what did they want?

All but the two casting spells on the wards were huddled around a fire, which was more than strange on such a warm summer day, but it gave Harry an idea. He pulled his own wand and pointed it at the fire. With a whispered word the fire flared and began to billow smoke and the people around it began to cough heavily. Shouts went up as Harry cast a bubble head charm followed by an impervious on his glasses.

Someone from the Order must have seen the smoke for there were numerous popping sounds, indicative of people apparating in, but Harry could barely see anything for the smoke. Some lights flashed and he could hear strings snapping and the occasional hiss of metal against metal. Frantically he tried to recall the spell that would clear the smoke, but it wasn't coming to mind.

"_Permoveo Aer_," someone called and a breeze lifted the smoke. By the time it was clear the trespassers were gone and the Order were staring around in confusion.

Harry blinked, feeling a bit bewildered as he cancelled the bubblehead charm. They hadn't apparated away so they must have had portkeys to be able to disappear so silently and quickly. But why hadn't they stayed to fight? Surely they couldn't have been scared away so easily.

Harry stayed put while the Order searched the area. Lupin, after a whispered conversation with Moody, came to lean against a nearby tree. He waited until Moody had chased off the others before speaking.

"Alright Harry. Time to come out."

Reluctantly Harry stepped out to face his old teacher. He bowed his head slightly, not quite able to meet Lupin's eyes.

"While I don't want to encourage this sort of behaviour in the future I must say Sirius would have been very proud of you."

Harry felt a lump in his throat as he nodded. Sirius probably would have been, but he would also have shouted the loudest once all was said and done. "Is everyone alright?"

Lupin nodded. "There are a few injuries. Hestia was shot in the arm with an arrow and there are a couple of scrapes. Nothing St Mungo's can't patch up."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"The headmaster will be here soon to check the wards are intact. I'm sure he'll want to talk to you too."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Yeah. OK."

Lupin began walking back towards the house and gestured for Harry to follow. There was a flash as they crossed the wards and suddenly the Burrow reappeared.

"That was a good idea you had," Lupin said slowly. "But I wish you had let us deal with it."

"Everyone treats me like some stupid little kid that can't do anything for himself," Harry said sullenly. "Everyone's so eager to protect me, like I'm defenceless. Well I'm not!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Lupin said. "We all know that you can defend yourself, but you can't blame us for wanting to keep you safe, Harry. You mean a lot to so many people."

Harry grumbled quietly to himself. "None of those people know me."

"I know you," Lupin argued. "And I care about you a great deal, so do the Weasley's and your friends. Even Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore just wants to keep me alive until I can fix all his problems for him," Harry retorted.

Lupin stopped. "What do you mean?"

Harry hesitated. "I can't tell you."

Lupin nodded his understanding. "Very well. But you know you can always talk to me if you want to."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said.

Lupin smiled. "I haven't taught you for two years now. I think you can call me Remus. Or Moony if you prefer."

"Moony?" Harry queried. For some reason it felt very right to call Lupin that.

Lupin almost laughed aloud. "When you were a baby Sirius was determined you would call us Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. He would spend hours saying those names over and over to you from the moment Lily and James brought you home from the hospital. By the time you actually _did_ start speaking no one was surprised when you referred to us as 'Ucca Ooey' and 'Ucca Paft."

Harry grinned at his shoes. "I never knew that."

Lupin sighed. "No, I'm not surprised. It's my fault really. You should never have been left alone with your aunt and uncle. We should have checked on you. _I _should have checked on you. Even after I met you again I was so scared of getting close to you, too scared to tell you the things I knew no one else could. Then Sirius was back and I just took a step back, assuming he would take care of it. I know there were so many things he wanted to tell you. He even had plans for things you could do together." He snorted. "Top of that list was buying you your first drink when you were seventeen. I guess that will be my job now."

Harry frowned. "You don't have to," he said quickly. "Just because... because he's dead doesn't mean you have to act any differently."

Lupin squeezed his shoulder. "I want to. I only wish I could take back the last fifteen years so I could try and do it right this time." He glanced up at the house. "Are you ready to talk to Dumbledore?"

Harry squared his shoulders. "I suppose."

"I don't know what's happened between the two of you and I won't ask," Lupin said gently. "Just remember that he really does care about you, even if it doesn't always seem that way."

Harry just ducked his head. He knew the Headmaster cared, that everything he'd done had, in a roundabout way, proven that, but it was hard to remember that after everything that had happened.

Together the two entered the house.

"Harry!"

He almost stumbled back when Mrs Weasley wrapped her arms around him. She was babbling almost incoherently and he was pretty sure she was crying, judging by the wet feeling on his shoulder. Over her head he could see Hermione looking at him with consternation. Ron also looked a bit miffed though if Harry had to guess it was more to do with Harry going off without him than whatever Hermione was annoyed about this time.

Dumbledore was sitting at the table and observing them silently. Harry took a deep breath as Mrs Weasley released him and turned to his Headmaster.

"Harry, I wonder if you'd like to join an old man on the porch," Dumbledore said in his usual genial tone.

Harry nodded and followed him back outside. At least he could put off the yelling for a while.

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Molly watched Harry leave, fighting the urge to pull him back for another hug. That boy was a mother's worst nightmare, always running off and getting into trouble. One of these days worrying about him would make her ill.

Of course she worried about all her family these days. The war didn't make for peace of mind, especially with Arthur, Bill and herself in the Order, Charlie off with the dragons, the twins and their pranks due to join the Order any day now, Percy who still refused to see reason and come home and Ron, Hermione and Ginny who seemed determined to follow Harry headlong into danger.

Then there was Harry himself. She had long considered him just another one of her boys and it was like a physical pain every time she got news he had been on another one of his 'adventures.' The Department of Mysteries fiasco had almost killed her, with her two biological and two all but adopted children all walking straight into the enemies hands and while _they_ had made it out alive Sirius – Harry's only link to his parents – had not. In some ways it had only become real to her that the second war had really started when someone she knew had died. Someone who's death meant that poor Harry had lost the closest thing to a father he had.

She had been told by both Ron and Ginny that Harry had become withdrawn in the days after Sirius' death. She felt a swell of anger towards Dumbledore every time she thought about how he had sent the poor boy off to the Dursley's, where he would have no one to talk to, no one's shoulder to cry on and no Molly Weasley to be there when he just needed a mother to hold him. Still, Dumbledore had insisted and the reasons he had given had been valid, but that hadn't stopped her from asking him every other day if Harry could come to stay yet.

When he appeared on her doorstep she'd not really been surprised to see he had lost weight yet again, either because the Dursley's weren't feeding him properly – again – or because Harry wasn't taking care of himself. Either way her instincts had instantly gone into overdrive and she had vowed to herself that she would help him this summer, even if the only thing she could do was feed him up and make sure he had a safe place to heal.

She had completely panicked when Hermione went to fetch Harry from the kitchen and found him gone, but she'd kept herself together to stop the other three from running off after him and sent off her Patronus to let the others know.

It was the question of _why_ he felt the need to run off all on his own that confused her the most although perhaps it shouldn't. Those horrible people Harry had been forced to grow up with had left him with low self-esteem and absolutely no sense of self-worth, meaning that when it came to putting his life in danger to save others he didn't hesitate. It might be a good trait for a hero, but it wasn't healthy for Harry himself and that was what she really had to work on this summer: making Harry feel wanted, _needed_ enough that he would realise he did have worth as a person, then maybe events like today could be avoided.

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Dumbledore led Harry down to the end of the garden, picking his way around a couple of fighting garden gnomes.

"Now then, Harry," he said lightly. "I'm sure you will have no end of people telling you that you acted very irresponsibly today so I will merely add my voice to theirs by saying I am disappointed you did not trust the adults to take care of this."

Harry couldn't meet the Headmaster's eye as he mumbled, "Sorry." Dumbledore's disappointment could be worse than most people's anger.

"You put your life in danger by leaving the house after you had been told to stay where you were. Although we have no way of knowing for certain it seems likely that you were the main target today."

Harry tensed. "Does that mean I have to go to Headquarter's?" he asked quietly. He couldn't even stand to say the address out loud, how was he going to survive the rest of the summer there? He'd almost prefer the Dursleys to that.

Dumbledore studied him intently. "No, I think not. The wards have held up admirably enough that I think you will be safe here. I will ask, however, that you remain inside for the remainder of your holiday, unless an adult accompanies you."

Harry looked up desperately. "But..."

Dumbledore held up a hand, forestalling his objections. "We cannot take such cavalier risks with your life, my boy. It is only four weeks until you return to Hogwarts. I'm sure you can entertain yourself indoors until then."

"You only want to keep me alive so I can fulfill your stupid prophecy," Harry ground out. "If it wasn't for that you wouldn't care if I lived or died."

Dumbledore moved with a speed Harry wouldn't have thought possible as he waved his wand in the air, casting numerous privacy charms, before turning back and grasping Harry's arm.

"Oh, my boy," he said at last. "I never wanted you to believe that." He released Harry and walked away, putting some distance between them. "I have always cared for you, even when you were just a small baby in your mother's arms. I admit that my decisions where you are concerned have not always turned out how we might have wished, but my most important goal has always been to see you alive and happy. Even if you chose to run away right now I would still care for you very much and do everything in my power to honour that choice."

Harry's heart jumped at those words.

"Is that what you want?" Dumbledore asked him quietly. "Say the word and I will make it happen."

Harry stared at Dumbledore. Would he really do it, just let him leave? Could he run away from the prophecy? Sometimes late at night when sleep wouldn't come after another of his visions he had entertained thoughts of doing just that, but could he really?

He glanced back at the Burrow and knew he couldn't leave. Not knowing that by doing so he was condemning the Weasleys and Hermione to certain death. He sighed heavily.

Dumbledore seemed to realise he'd come to a decision as he reached over and patted Harry's shoulder. "It is a heavy burden you bear," he said. "But never forget that you do not carry it alone." He waved his wand and conjured two large armchairs, gesturing for Harry to sit as he took the other one.

"Have you told anyone about the prophecy?" Dumbledore enquired.

Harry shook his head emphatically. "No way. The less people there are that know about it the better. I thought you didn't want people to know about it, the Order don't know do they?"

"No they do not," Dumbledore agreed. "However do you really think you can keep it from Mr Weasley and Miss Granger?"

"If I have to," Harry said firmly. He could just imagine their reactions to the news Harry was destined to be killed by the Dark Lord. Hermione would go into research overload and he'd probably never find her beyond the pile of books she'd bury herself behind and Ron would panic and probably want to go running to his dad for advice.

"You do not give your friends enough credit," Dumbledore said gently. "Do you not think they would want to know as you would if it was either of them in your situation? They may not be able to provide you with practical assistance, but the emotional help they can give you would be invaluable. If nothing else it would give you someone to talk to."

"I don't _need _anyone to talk to," Harry said from between clenched teeth.

"Everyone needs to talk to someone," Dumbledore said sagely. "Even I."

"I'll think about it," Harry said, not really meaning it, but knowing he'd never win an argument with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore let it go, even though he probably knew Harry was lying.

"Who were they?" Harry asked, eager to change the subject.

"I have no idea," Dumbledore admitted. "I have never seen their ilk before. Perhaps they are a group sympathetic to Voldemort wishing to make their mark by capturing you."

"What makes you so certain they were after me?" Harry demanded.

"Can you think of anything else here that would be of such value that someone would go to so much effort to get it?"

Harry had to admit he couldn't but he hated to think that the Weasley's had been put to all this trouble just because of him. Maybe it would be better if he went to Grimmauld Place.

"There are three other things I wanted to talk to you about. Firstly, Auror Tonks informed me of what transpired with your relatives and I am sorry to say that I am wholly to blame for that, but at the time there was no other option. It was necessary for your aunt to know what accepting you into her home would mean and last summer, when the Dementors attacked you, I could not afford not to remind her with that howler that she could not let you leave. Yet it was that that alerted your uncle to the danger he and his family were in."

Harry shrugged. He'd already known that.

"Unfortunately it is necessary that you return there next year, if only for a few weeks, so I have had all three Dursleys obliviated. Only Petunia will remember the letter I left with you fifteen years ago and she is under a compulsion charm not to reveal that information to Vernon or Dudley."

Harry blinked in surprise. In his experience Dumbledore didn't like to take drastic measures like that. He nodded his understanding. At least he would only have to go back one more time.

"I also wanted to talk to you about your dreams," Dumbledore said. "I have grown increasingly concerned with the reports you have been sending me. I'm sure you'll agree that there is only negligible benefit to these as the victims are usually dead before you awake."

Harry shivered as he remembered the woman he'd dreamt of a few nights ago who had been subjected to the most horrific torture before the Death Eaters and Voldemort left. She _had_ been alive, but barely and her mind had been so far gone it would have been a kindness had Voldemort decided to kill her. Instead she would spend the rest of her life in St Mungo's permanent spell damage ward all because her parents were muggles.

"On the other hand," Dumbledore continued, "It is clear to me that you are suffering under these visions."

"I can handle it," Harry said stubbornly.

"Yes, I'm sure you could," Dumbledore said gently. "But why should you? If there is a way to prevent them should we not make every effort to do so?"

Harry frowned. "Do you mean occlumency?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily over his half moon spectacles. "I am aware that your lessons last year were something of a... debacle, which is why I am prepared to teach you myself."

"Really? But I thought it was too dangerous," Harry said.

"I did not wish to give Voldemort a reason to try and possess you," Dumbledore explained. "But since you pushed him out of your mind in June those worries have been laid to rest. Now, if you are agreeable, I think it would be perfectly safe for me to instruct you."

"Then I would like that," Harry said. While he and Dumbledore were not as close as they once were he would still much prefer Dumbledore's calm instruction over the ridicule and belittlement he received from Snape.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers. "We will begin once you return to Hogwarts in September where you can practise magic without fear of Ministry interference. Incidentally fear no reprisal for your actions today as I have taken the liberty of informing Miss Hopkirk that you were in mortal danger and only defending yourself and others." He clapped his hands together. "In that case there is but one other thing I wished to discuss with you and I apologise if this is a sensitive topic, but it is imperative that it be dealt with as soon as possible. I am talking about Sirius' will."

Harry swallowed hard. He should have expected something like this to come up.

"It is rather simple," Dumbledore went on. "Sirius left everything to you. What that means is that a substantial amount of galleons will be added to your vault while you yourself must take possession of Grimmauld Place." He smiled genially at Harry. "I understand that you will most likely not want to return there any time soon, but if the house remains unclaimed then the wards protecting it will begin to fail and then we will be unable to safely use it as our headquarters."

"Oh," Harry said shakily. "I don't know if I can, Sir."

"It does not have to be today," Dumbledore added. "There is no specific time in which this must be done, but it is imperative that the spell be performed before the wards fall. I estimate we have until early September at the latest."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He still had some time. "Alright."

"I will give you some time to become more amenable to the idea," Dumbledore said. "In the meantime the Order can meet at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said gratefully. He hesitated. After everything that had happened it didn't seem all that important anymore, but he had to ask, "Sir, do you know how the _Daily Prophet_ got hold of my results?"

"Alas, I do not," Dumbledore replied. "A student's results are to remain completely confidential unless the student wishes to reveal them and the Ministry takes this policy very seriously. As such there are safeguards in place to protect the results. Either someone managed to circumvent them, which I find unlikely, or the owl that was sent to deliver them was intercepted. I promise I will look into it and let you know what happened. If evidence of foul play is found do you intend to prosecute?"

Harry frowned. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

"In that case I suggest you think long and hard. Now, if there is nothing else I will accompany you back to the house," Dumbledore said standing. "And, Harry, please stay inside, for my peace of mind if nothing else."

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Ron stared out the window disconsolately. From here he could see Dumbledore and Harry talking. Dumbledore had conjured a pair of armchairs and they sat, facing each other.

He had always been a bit jealous of Harry's relationship with Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards ever to have lived. It had not escaped his attention that while he referred to almost all the students by their last names he always called Harry 'Harry.' It was like Harry was Dumbledore's favoured grandson and he lavished attention upon him while Ron was overlooked. It had taken him a long time to get over that. About as long as it had taken him to see that Harry didn't like his fame or the attention it brought him. His jealousy had died completely last year when Dumbledore had stopped talking to Harry and Ron realised that Harry had almost no one else to turn to. Where Ron had numerous siblings and two parents who were always happy to listen to him Harry had only Sirius and Dumbledore and last year Dumbledore had been distant and Sirius in hiding, leaving Harry without guidance.

That was the moment when Ron had seen that instead of feeling bitter and resentful he should be feeling sorry for Harry because without the fame and the money Harry really didn't have all that much.

Harry and Dumbledore were making their way back into the house, their armchairs vanished moments before, but Ron continued to stare out the window. Hermione was sitting on one of the beds and he could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to turn around while his thoughts were still so morose.

What Harry really needed was a bit of fun, a few laughs, maybe a girlfriend. While Ron could help with the first two he wasn't really prepared to volunteer for the third, nor was he about to push Hermione in his direction. Fortunately for all of them Ginny was more than willing to take on the position and Ron couldn't be happier about that. When he and Ginny were younger they'd been very close. Bill and Charlie were a lot older, Percy was more than a little boring, Fred and George were a pair and not very willing to accept a third member of their little group so that left the youngest two Weasley's. Once Ron had started Hogwarts they'd grown apart, but Ron had always tried to look out for his little sister. She hadn't made it easy, what with the Chamber fiasco in her first year, but Harry had been there to save her when he couldn't. And that was why Ron knew he could trust Harry with Ginny, far more than he had Michael Corner or Dean Thomas.

The door opened and Harry walked in looking more than a little bit irked.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not allowed outside without a guard," Harry said angrily, throwing himself back onto the unoccupied bed.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "Well that puts a stop to Quidditch for a start."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"No, it's alright," Harry sighed. "I should've been expecting it really. Now everyone knows Voldemort's back they're all going to be watching me extra closely. I'm not going to be allowed to go to the bathroom without a guard soon." He propped himself up one elbow and looked at Ron. "Are you really upset with me?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess not. Why didn't you take us along? You know we could have handled it."

"Your mum was keeping too close an eye on you," Harry said absently. "I didn't have time to distract her and tell you even if I'd thought of it. As it was it was a split second decision."

"It was really dangerous and you shouldn't have gone at all," Hermione scolded.

"I know, I know," Harry huffed. "I've heard it all already. I should have trusted them to deal with it instead of just running off. I'm fed up with everyone treating me like a child. How am I ever going to..." His mouth snapped shut with a click and he looked away from them almost guiltily.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "Going to what?" Hermione said quickly.

"Never mind," Harry said.

Ron almost screamed. There was something going on with Harry beyond Sirius and Voldemort and it sounded like he was about to say whatever it was until he caught himself. He knew there was no point asking though. Once Harry had made up his mind he wasn't going to tell them something it was like trying to beat down a brick wall trying to get it out of him.

"Well now you know your results you can decide what classes you want to take," Hermione offered, picking up the leaflets she'd been carrying around all day.

"Yeah. Great," Ron said with false brightness. Later he would have to get the full story, but right now it was best to do _anything_ to distract Harry from the grim mood he was developing.

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A/N: Sorry I didn't update last week. I've just got a lot going on with family, work and the real world. I'm a day early, but I know I won't be able to get online tomorrow because I've got an all day rehearsal.

Anyway, please don't forget to review, they really make my day and encourage me to write more. Thaks to those that reviewed the last chapter.

Nat.


	5. Diagon Alley

Chapter 5 – Diagon Alley

The days after the attempted attack moved quickly as Harry settled into life at the Burrow. Even though he still missed Sirius and mentions of his godfather sometimes made him withdraw into himself he found himself enjoying the quiet time with his friends.

Hermione had finally managed to convince Ron and Harry to choose their classes for the next year and send off the list to McGonagall so she could send them their booklists. Both Harry and Ron had opted to take DADA, Charms, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures. Harry was going to continue with Potions, much as he might wish otherwise, but Ron had taken Herbology instead, not having the marks for Potions. After a lot of agonising Hermione had eventually decided to take the same classes as Harry apart from Care of Magical Creatures and instead take Arithmancy. She was devastated that she could only choose five classes.

His confinement to the house hadn't been quite so stifling as he expected, especially with Ron, Hermione and Ginny all deciding they wouldn't go outside unless he could. Sometimes Tonks or Moony would stop by and the teens would take the opportunity to spend a few moments in the sun under their careful supervision.

Moony was another reason Harry was coping so well under the restrictions Dumbledore had set upon him. On some of his visits typical British weather had prevented them seeking the outdoors and Moony had instead regaled them with tales of the Marauder's glory days at Hogwarts. There had also been more than a few baby stories that had made Harry's cheeks redden in embarrassment and had Ron in stitches, at least until Mrs Weasley had reciprocated with a few stories of her own. In the end only Hermione had escaped that particular horror, but Harry found he enjoyed it none the less. It made him feel normal for once and as time passed mention of Sirius hurt less and less. In some ways it made him realise how little he'd known about his godfather and he took the opportunity to learn as much as he could; about Sirius and his parents.

Unfortunately his dreams were not interrupted just because he was happier during the day. The night after the attack Harry had a vision in which he was sitting in a large chair facing a pair of Death Eaters. Some part of Harry was startled to hear a soft feminine voice speak from out of one of the masks even as he watched her in the guise of Voldemort. The only female Death Eater he knew of was Bellatrix and the voice was far too light to be hers.

"_I do not care for your excuses. Have you acquired the book as yet?" Harry-as-Voldemort asked._

"_No my Lord," the female Death Eater said regretfully, cringing back, knowing what was coming. _

"Crucio_," Harry said lazily and the woman screamed in agony. He lifted his wand lazily and she slumped to the ground. "That book is essential to my plans. I have placed a great deal of trust in you, do not disappoint me."_

"_I-I w-won't my Lord," she stuttered._

"_Severus," Harry said, turning to the other Death Eater. "What is this I hear about a strange new group attacking the place Potter is staying in?"_

"_We know very little, my Lord," Snape's oily voice said. "Even Dumbledore did not recognise them. We can only guess that they too are after Potter. They ran as soon as they were confronted by the Order."_

"_I do not expect them to give us much trouble," Harry said calmly. "But just in case you will find out everything you can about them and report to me."  
_

"_Yes, my Lord," Snape said, bowing low to kiss Harry's robes._

"_Oh and Severus," Harry said softly. "Next time make sure I hear such important news from you, not my other sources. _Crucio_."_

When Harry awoke he sent his usual letter to Dumbledore who said he would deal with it, but Harry was concerned. Whatever this book was it was important to Voldemort so they couldn't let him get his hands on it. Not only that but he knew about the attack hours after it happened and not from Snape which could only mean that there was another spy within the Order.

Apart from the visions of whatever horrors Voldemort was committing he was still having regular nightmares about the night Sirius died. He often woke Ron in the early hours of the morning, yelling his head off after a vision, but his nightmares ended far more quietly. He'd had fifteen years of practise at the Dursleys keeping quiet after bad dreams.

After the first few nights of this Mrs Weasley took pity on him and wrote to Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts for Dreamless Sleep potion. He could only take it every fourth night, but at least it gave him some uninterrupted sleep.

Harry had spent a great deal of time thinking about his last conversation with Dumbledore, most particularly the part where he suggested Harry tell his friends about the prophecy. While he knew he could trust them to keep it a secret and a small part argued that they deserved to know what they had fought for at the Ministry, Harry just couldn't bring himself to do it. Both Ron and Hermione were thoroughly convinced that Dumbledore would eventually find a way to kill Voldemort and Harry couldn't take that hope away from them, couldn't tell them that it wasn't the most powerful wizard in the world that was destined to fight the Dark Lord, but an untested sixteen year old boy who didn't have a chance in hell. Even if he did tell them he didn't think he could take their pity. It was bad enough that he knew he was going to die; he didn't need to spend the rest of his days with them looking at him like he would disappear any minute. More importantly, anyone who knew was in danger and he wasn't prepared to do that to anyone he cared about.

About a week before they were due to return to Hogwarts they received their book lists. There was nothing unexpected in Harry's letter this year although they were all a bit surprised that Ginny didn't receive a prefect's badge. From what Harry knew about Ginny she was a good student and didn't get in much trouble, but Hermione told them that ever since the end of her first year she had become a bit anti social with the other Gryffindors. Harry secretly thought that explained a lot about Ginny's friendship with Luna Lovegood. She was also in so many school clubs, like the Gobstones Group that she didn't have a lot of time to spare.

Ginny was quickly becoming an uncomfortable topic for Harry. He wasn't sure what to make of her. Always before she had avoided spending time with the three of them, but now she was always around them. At first Harry had thought it was because the twins were no longer at home for her to hang around with, but he wasn't so sure. It always seemed a bit odd when Ginny spoke in front of him after years of her blushing and stuttering whenever he was around. These days she was always smiling at him or touching his arm and at times even giggling. He suddenly remembered Hermione telling him she had gotten over her crush on him and given up. She'd even been seeing two other boys last year. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised she really was completely over him and that's why she was suddenly so much more comfortable around him.

Ron and Hermione were seemingly encouraging this, giving the two of them lots of chances to talk while they went elsewhere. As much as Harry was glad to make a new friend he sometimes missed the closeness they shared when it was just the three of them.

About a week before school began they made the trip into Diagon Alley. Harry was absolutely thrilled having missed out on going for the last two years. Dumbledore had objected at first, saying that it was too dangerous, but Mr Weasley interceded on his behalf and convinced Dumbledore that it wasn't fair to Harry for them to halt his whole life until Voldemort was dead, that a life hidden away from the world wasn't worth living. Despite any misgivings he may have had Dumbledore agreed, but he insisted they take a guard with them, which is how Harry found himself in the Leaky Cauldron surrounded by Bill Weasley, Moony and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They had promised him that they would stay back, although never be so far away they couldn't help out should trouble arise. Personally Harry felt he had never seen a less inconspicuous group and wasn't surprised when he'd been warned that Tonks, Mad-Eye and several others were hiding amongst the crowds just in case. Somehow the order had managed to make a shopping trip to Diagon Alley feel more stifling than being locked in a small, airless room on a hot day.

After a quick trip into the underground below Gringotts they found themselves in Flourish and Blotts bookshop – at Hermione's insistence of course. No matter how they tried they couldn't persuade her to leave the books until last, even when they argued that they didn't want to carry them around all day. It was as they were leaving the bookstore almost an hour of complaining later that they ran into a familiar face. Draco Malfoy came in, closely followed by an arrogant blonde woman Harry recognised from the Quidditch World Cup as Malfoy's mother.

She sniffed when she saw them, reminding Harry painfully of Aunt Petunia who often acted like there was a bad smell whenever he was around. Malfoy smirked at them as he slapped a sheet of parchment on the counter. Mrs Malfoy spoke briefly to the clerk who grudgingly picked up the parchment and headed back amongst the bookshelves.

"One of the privileges of wealth," Malfoy said, continuing to smirk. "The little people do so rush to cater to our whims."

"Now, now Draco," Mrs Malfoy said distantly. "It isn't polite to lord it over those who have not had the advantages we have."

"I apologise, mother," Malfoy said, not sounding at all sorry.

"Come on," Hermione whispered. They followed her to the door.

"I forget that some people just don't have the right breeding," Malfoy continued smugly. "Can you imagine having muggles for parents?"

Hermione coloured but kept walking. Harry made sure to keep Ron in front of him just in case he decided to try and shut Malfoy up physically.

"Could be worse, I suppose," Malfoy continued. "At least she _has_ parents, right Potter?"

Harry clenched his fists to stop himself from going back and beating Malfoy's perfectly coiffured head against the counter. "Better dead than in Azkaban," he hissed.

"How is Daddy?" Ginny asked brightly while Ron grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him from the shop.

Harry tried to make himself calm down, but he could still see Malfoy through the window. At least he didn't look quite so self-assured now.

Ginny took his hand. "Come on, Harry. We don't want to waste anymore time on him."

Harry had to admit she was right, but he couldn't help feeling like the encounter had in some small way ruined the day for him. He allowed her to pull him in the direction of the Quidditch shop. Ron and Hermione followed closely with their guards trailing along behind to give them the illusion of being alone.

By far the best stop of the day was when they went to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George's shop was already a blazing success. From the moment he walked in the door Harry was struck by the amount of colour. The ceiling was a giant image displaying the Whiz-bangs the twins had used so effectively against Umbridge a few months before and the shelves were full of items Harry remembered from the previous year along with many more he had never heard of. It seemed the twins really had been busy.

Ron and Harry immediately began inspecting items discussing how they could use them against Malfoy and Snape, Harry was relieved for the excuse to let go of Ginny's hand as he picked up a few things, already planning their use.

Fred and George greeted them happily and Fred took a few minutes to show them around the backrooms and the flat above where they were currently staying. Harry couldn't believe what the twins had achieved since that memorable day when they had flown out of Hogwarts forever.

When he tried to pay for his goods he was told firmly that his money would never be accepted in WWW and he should just give up on the idea. Quite the opposite the twins declared Harry was their silent partner and once they started showing a profit they would start putting the money in his vault. Harry tried to object, but they told him that without him they never would have been able to do so much and he had saved them from years of working in dead end jobs while they saved up.

It was some time later that they decided to stop at Florean Fortescue's for ice cream. Apart from Malfoy the day had gone rather well and Harry was feeling quite happy as he listened to Ron and Hermione bicker about something and ate his chocolate and marshmallow ice cream. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so content. The Order members were seated at a nearby table, watching them, but he was determined not to let it bother him.

"Harry, darling, what an absolute delight it is to see you here," a sickeningly sweet voice said. "On a double date are we? Oh, my readers will be so disappointed to hear you're taken."

Harry sighed. He should have known something would happen to spoil the day and here she was: Rita Skeeter in the flesh. She looked better than she had last time he'd seen her. Her hair was fuller and recently styled and her robes appeared to be new. Along with the overuse of make up and overly long painted nails she looked much like she had the first time Harry had seen her.

"Even if we were on a double date it wouldn't be any of your business," Hermione said coolly. "We had an agreement, remember?"

"Ah, but my year is up," Rita said with a glare. "I've been forced to register my animagus form just to make sure you have no hold on me, Little Miss Perfect."

"I can still tell everyone you were buzzing around Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament," Hermione pointed out. "That was before you registered, you'd still be in trouble."

"But who would believe you? You have no proof, it'll be your word against mine and I have connections."

"So have I," Hermione said, looking pointedly at Harry.

"Well, I'll just have to remind everyone that you've got a grudge against me that makes you just a bit unreliable as a witness," Rita gave her a smug smile before turning to Harry. "So, they're calling you the Chosen One, how does that make you _feel_?"

Harry glared at her. Over her shoulder he could see Bill, Moony and Kingsley watching them carefully. Bill had his wand drawn and looked ready to jump up at a moment's notice.

"Any comments on the veracity of that title? Any plans you can share on how you'll defeat Voldemort? Anything you can tell me would boost the morale of the wizarding population. You're their hero, Harry, they want to hear everything about you."

"Don't answer her," Hermione said. "Maybe she'll get bored and go away. Ron, go and tell Bill we have unwelcome company."

"That only works in school, little girl," Rita said snidely. "This is the real world and if you won't talk to me then I'll just have to follow you around until I get a story." She leaned forward conspiriatorily. "I'll even help things along. Your choice, Harry." She stood and smiled down on them. "It doesn't even need to be about the war, you can tell me anything. Maybe you've found true love and want to shout it from the rooftops, or would you like to comment on that awful article about your exam results? No? Very well then."

She took a few steps away from them towards a family sitting at a nearby table. With one last glance back at them she leaned down and said something to the little girl.

"What's she doing?" Ginny asked in confusion.

The whole family looked up as one and the little girl shouted out, "Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm.

Other people were looking over now and some people were standing up to get a better look. Passers by were stopping, wondering what the commotion was about.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly wishing he was far away from here.

The little girl Rita had spoken to approached and tugged on Harry's arm. "Hello," she said sweetly. "Are you really Harry Potter?"

"Er..." Harry looked around desperately for a way out. "Yeah."

The girl nodded. "My Daddy said I should ask you to sign my book," she said, holding it out for him.

"What?" Harry spluttered, staring at her in disbelief.

Moony grabbed Harry's other arm and began dragging him away. Harry glanced back to see the little girl staring at him folornly. They ran towards the Leaky Cauldron which had the nearest public fireplace where they could floo back to the Burrow.

Harry almost knocked Moony over when he stopped short right outside Ollivander's. A glance through the window told him the building was empty and despite the situation Harry felt a stab of concern for the old man who'd sold him his wand. He hesitantly peered over Moony's shoulder to see a crowd had gathered and was currently blocking their way to the Leaky Cauldron and relative safety.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny had been left behind with Bill as no one was paying any attention to them, leaving only Kingsley and Moony between him and the crowd, which to his horror seemed to be mostly made up of teenage girls. Their giggling met his ears, along with several catcalls and wolf whistles. Some of the girls were shouting out obsene comments or suggestions and Harry felt his cheeks burn. There were a few requests for autographs or locks of hair along with a few cheers from the older people in the group.

Kingsley pushed Harry behind him, shielding him with his body and Harry was glad for another buffer between him and the crowd.

A hand circled his wrist and he was pulled sharply away and behind Ollivander's. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised no one had noticed his abrupt departure or if they had Kingsley and Moony had stopped them from following. He turned around to thank the Order member who had pulled him out and his jaw dropped open in surprise.

"'_Chosen One mobbed on shopping trip_,'" Rita said thoughtfully. She shrugged. "I'm sure I can make it work. What do you say, Harry? Any comments? How does all this make you feel?"

Harry pulled his arm free and shot her a glare. "No Quick-Quotes Quill?" he asked snidely. "Didn't think you could write without it."

Rita laughed, a sharp, humourless sound. "Quick-Quotes are so out of date, Harry. These days I'm using one of these," she indicated the flower pinned to her chest. "Handy little device, looks innocent, but records every word you say. I got it from the muggles," she confided. "It's only a pity I don't have my camera man with me today, we could have got some lovely shots. That little girl was a _sweetheart_ wasn't she? Now I must insist you give me some kind of comment, just to fill out the story, you understand."

Harry tried to walk past her, but she stepped into his path.

"Crowds like that don't just disappear," she said. "They'll be waiting for you. All those girls, hoping just to look at you. Of course, you could get rid of them with just a few little words. Tell me about your girlfriend."

"I don't have a..." Harry stopped abruptly as another figure walked around the side of the shop; a very pretty young girl of about sixteen with bright bubblegum pink hair. Just in case he had any doubts about her identity the girl's nose grew out in a Pinochio-like way before shrinking back to normal.

"It's alright, Harry-bear," Tonks said as Rita whirled around to see what had caught Harry's attention. "I know you wanted to protect me, but I just can't stand to see all those girls panting over you. I must have you all to myself."

Harry was caught between laughing and crying. He had no idea what to say to make the whole situation just go away.

"You're Harry's girlfriend?"Rita asked with interest. "What's your name?"

"Ivonna," Tonks said promptly. "You might have heard of my parents, the Tinkle's? They're very important in the muggle world."

It was all Harry could do to repress a snort at that, especially seeing that Rita was just eating it all up.

"No, I don't believe I have," Rita said tapping her finger against her overly made up cheek.

"That's alright," Tonks sighed. "I'm not here to talk about them, I want to talk about my Pooky and our love that has gone unspoken for too long." She stepped around to Harry's side and took his hand in hers. "We're engaged you know. We're going to get married right out of Hogwarts, just like his parents did. It's so romantic don't you think?"

Whatever Rita thought Harry didn't find out as he felt the familiar pulling sensation of a portkey and they appeared back in the Burrow, the image of Rita's surprised face forever burned into their memories. Harry and Tonks looked at each other for a long moment before they both fell to the ground, laughing.

That was how the others found them a few minutes later when they arrived back with their own portkeys. Harry was holding his stomach which was starting to hurt and Tonks' hair was cycling through every colour in the rainbow as she giggled.

Between gasping for breath they managed to tell the others what had happened. Kingsley seemed to be blaming himself for not noticing Harry getting dragged away, but Harry was just grateful he'd prevented the mob from following.

Harry kept laughing even two days later when the article Rita had threatened him with made it into the _Daily Prophet_.

The article itself was quite flattering, making no mention of who had started the whole thing. Fortunately only Harry was mentioned, not his friends as he had no desire for them to become even more of a target because their names had been associated with his in the paper. Tonks, of course, starred heavily although it seemed Rita had realised she had been the butt of a joke and didn't print the name Tonks had given her. She only mentioned that Harry was engaged to be married to a respectable young woman who was both muggleborn and very attractive. Harry only prayed no one would think it was Hermione.

Hermione was quite amazed at his attitude to the article and congratulated him on his newfound maturity. Harry just grinned and said, "I'm sure there will be '_hundreds of devastated girls across the country_.' The way she's going on you'd think I was some kind of movie star. I doubt any girl's going to be _devastated_ over me." Hermione laughed at this, but wouldn't explain what was so funny.

The evening before they were due to return to Hogwarts Harry and Ron were packing their trunks when Ginny came in and sat on Harry's bed. She didn't say anything so Harry just ignored her in favour of packing away the clothes Mrs Weasley had washed for him. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Ron made some excuse and practically bolted from the room.

Harry glanced up at Ginny who was staring at him intently and shifted uncomfortably. Over the last few weeks things between them had been getting icreasingly awkward. She was always there, trying to hold his hand and giggling at every word he said and for some reason she made Harry feel very nervous.

"Harry," she said softly. "Can I talk to you?"

Harry sighed and sat opposite her on Ron's bed. "Alright."

She smiled slightly before looking away nervously. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that I've been trying to get your attention," she said so quietly Harry had to strain his ears to hear her. "I really like you, I have for a long time now and I just wanted to ask you if there was any chance at all..." she trailed off.

Harry blinked. "I thought you were over me; that's what Hermione said. You were going out with Dean." His voice had gone unnaturally high now he realised where this was going.

"I asked her to tell you that," Ginny admitted. "I didn't want you to think I was that pathetic, so I forced myself to act more normally around you. It was Hermione's idea actually and well, I thought going out with Dean and Michael would take my mind off of you. Then when I realised it still wasn't working I broke up with Dean and asked Hermione for more advice and she told me to be really obvious about my feelings."

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "_Hermione_ told you?"

"Yeah, she said she wouldn't talk to you for me, no matter how much I asked," Ginny said bitterly. "Look, Harry," she said a bit more confidently, "you're far too nice a guy to make me actually say this."

Harry stood up and stared out the window. "I'm sorry, Ginny, but I've got too much going on to worry about a girlfriend. Even if I did, it's too dangerous to be around me, Voldemort would come after you just to get to me."

"I don't care," Ginny said forcefully. "I'm willing to take the risk."

"I'm not," Harry said simply. "Your family has been so good to me and I can't do that to them. And what if it didn't work out?"

"Harry, I..." Ginny faltered. "I think I love you." Harry ignored the jolt those words caused in his stomach. Had anyone ever said those words to him before? Not that he could remember. "We can't let You-Know-Who ruin our lives. Don't you deserve to be happy? Just give me a chance."

Harry sighed. He'd hoped his arguments so far would be enough to dissuade her. He was no good at this. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he said gently. "I don't feel that way about you."

"Oh." Ginny's eyes, so hopeful before, filled with tears and Harry cringed. He was even worse with crying girls than he was with letting people down.

"Ginny, I..." but he had no idea what to say.

"It's OK, H-Harry." With a strangled sob she ran from the room and Harry sank back onto the bed feeling defeated. How on earth had this happened?


	6. Going Home

Chapter 6 – Going Home

"What's wrong with Ginny?" Ron demanded for the third time.

"_Nothing_!" Harry said in exasperation. "There's nothing wrong with her, I just don't want to go out with her."

"Are you two ever going to be ready?" Hermione said, trying to change the subject. "We'll be late at this rate."

"But she's perfect for you," Ron objected as though Hermione hadn't spoken.

"I barely know her," Harry said.

"That's why you should go out with her, to get to know her," said Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes. "And what would you know?"

"Hey!" Ron threw his pillow at Harry. "That's low."

"Sorry," Harry sighed. Ron was never going to let up unless Harry told him the truth. "You want to know the main reason I would never go out with Ginny?"

"Yeah," Ron said belligerently.

Harry ducked down and opened his trunk, rooting around under the hastily folded clothes until he found what he was looking for.

"What's your photo album got to do with Ginny?" Ron demanded.

Harry flipped though the pages until he found the one he was looking for. "There," he pointed.

"Oh my," Hermione gasped, looking over his shoulder. "That could almost be Ginny."

"That's my mum," Harry told her. "Moony said she was about sixteen then."

"So?" Ron said with a frown.

"So," Harry began, "I don't really fancy going out with a girl who looks a hell of a lot like my mum. It's just _wrong_."

Hermione sniggered and Harry turned to glare at her.

"Don't think I've forgotten that this is all your fault," he said with a glare. "Ginny told me you were encouraging her. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not like I gave her the secret to your heart," Hermione said. "And it's not my fault if you're more naive than a lamb walking into the slaughter house."

Harry gaped at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on Harry," Hermione smiled. "You wouldn't notice a girl was throwing herself at you if she was drooling all over your feet."

"I would so," Harry argued.

"Hannah Abbot," Hermione said bluntly. "Parvati Patil, Romilda Vane, to name just a few."

Harry blinked at her. "Who's Romilda Vane?"

Hermione sighed. "It doesn't matter. My point is there's more than one girl at school who's been desperate to get you to notice them, but you seem utterly clueless."

Harry cast his mind back, but couldn't remember anything involving Hannah. He'd gone to the Yule Ball with Parvati, but other than that he'd never really noticed her. Maybe she _had_ been trying to get his attention. He'd have to keep an eye on her this year.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Even if I was looking for a girlfriend, the moment I show an interest in anyone she's going to go straight on Voldemort's hit list." He glanced at Ron. "Is that what you want for Ginny?"

Ron sighed. "No."

"It wouldn't be fair to her," Harry said firmly. "If I thought it would do any good I'd make you two stay far away from me as well, but he already knows how much you mean to me, so I guess it's too late."

"We wouldn't let you anyway," Hermione promised. "You're our friend and we'll stick together no matter what."

"Yeah, mate it's not like we're not targets here anyway. My whole family is in the Order and Hermione's muggle-born."

Harry was about to reply when Mrs Weasley called them downstairs. They quickly gathered the rest of their things together and dragged their trunks down the stairs. When they entered the kitchen they found Mrs Weasley sitting with Professor Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling happily. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Harry said heavily. He really wasn't looking forward to this.

"Leave your trunk here," Mrs Weasley said. "We'll meet you at the station with it."

"Just place your hand on the portkey," Dumbledore said, holding out an old knobbly sock. Harry silently obeyed.

His feet slammed into the ground outside number twelve Grimmauld Place. The house looked much like it did the last time he'd been here, dark and morbid and now that he was standing here he really wished he was far, far away, climbing into an enlarged car with the Weasleys.

Dumbledore laid a hand on his shoulder. "You remember what it is you have to do?"

Harry nodded.

"There is plenty of time," Dumbledore told him. "If you do not feel ready we can come back in a few days."

Harry sucked in a deep breath. If he was going to do this he'd just as well do it now. "Let's get it over with."

He marched up the steps and placed his right hand on the door. He closed his eyes and said clearly, "I, Harry James Potter, hereby take possession of the Black family name and all their properties as bequeathed to me by Sirius Orion Black."

Under his hand the door glowed and swung open. Dumbledore came up behind him and patted his shoulder. "Well done, my boy."

"Thanks," Harry said shakily.

Inside was dark and gloomy and Dumbledore had to light his wand in order to see. Harry would have lit his, but he was conscious of the fact that school still hadn't started. He followed closely behind his headmaster, carefully stepping around the troll leg umbrella stand and tiptoeing past the portrait of Mrs Black.

When they entered the kitchen Harry was horrified at the amount of dust and cobwebs covering everything. It hadn't looked this bad last year when the house had been sitting unoccupied for over ten years.

"Where's Kreacher?" he asked through gritted teeth. He would never forgive the house elf for betraying Sirius and sending Harry to the Ministry.

Dumbledore didn't answer. Instead he walked down the steps into the cellar. Not wanting to sit alone in the dark Harry hurried after him.

When they reached the space behind the boiler room that had been Kreacher's nest Dumbledore let out a large sigh.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, peering into the blackness around them. An indescribably unpleasant odour reached his nostrils.

"Kreacher," Dumbledore said sadly, stepping closer.

As the wand light fell upon a lumpy shape beneath the boiler Harry had to gasp. It was an effort not to retch at this sight that met his eyes of a headless house elf lying in a pool of blood. He clenched his teeth together. As nasty as it was he couldn't help but feel that Kreacher deserved this. "Where's his head?" he asked.

"I expect we will find it on the first floor corridor," Dumbledore replied. "The Black family has long had a tradition of beheading their most loyal servants and hanging the heads on the wall, as I am sure you have seen."

"But Kreacher wasn't loyal," Harry said angrily. "It's his fault Sirius is dead."

"Ah, but Sirius' mother had already blasted Sirius from the family tree, and she made her feelings towards her eldest son painfully clear. Kreacher may have felt that by sending Sirius to his death he was doing as Mrs Black wanted."

Harry remembered the picture of Bellatrix Lestrange they had found in Kreacher's nest last Christmas. He'd definitely been loyal to some aspects of the Black family.

With a wave of his wand Dumbledore vanished the body and the blood. With a deep sigh he led the way back up the stairs into the kitchen.

"I must thank you, Harry," he said as he cleaned up some of the dust so they could sit. "Now we can reconvene here, rather than risk the students by meeting at Hogwarts."

"Shouldn't we be leaving, sir?" Harry asked, glancing around at the dank kitchen. He really didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.

"I just need a few moments of your time to discuss a delicate matter," Dumbledore replied, giving Harry a knowing look. "There is no chance of our being overheard here. You recall, I hope, what we discussed at the end of last term."

Harry nodded. How could he possibly forget the prophecy, even for a moment?

"About a month ago, Professor McGonagall came to me with distressing news. It seems she was discussing schedules for the new year with Professor Trelawney when she witnessed a third prophecy."

Harry gasped. "Please tell me this one had nothing to do with me."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I wish I could, my boy, but after a month to mull it over I'm still unsure as to the full meaning and cannot say for certain if you are involved. I just wanted to fulfil the promise I made to you in June and keep you apprised of the current situation."

Harry sighed. Part of him really didn't want to know, but he couldn't just walk away when Dumbledore was finally being open with him. "What did it say?"

Dumbledore reached into his pocket to remove two pieces of parchment and slid the smaller one across the table. Hesitantly Harry picked it up and read:

_Two score and a dozen by the magical prime brings the day of the Half Blood Prince. His coming will mark the beginning of the end of the second war and all will be decided within the year._

Harry looked up. "What does_ that_ mean?"

"As I said," Dumbledore said with a smile, "I am still unsure what it means. The term, 'Prince' is giving me some concern as it is not a rank wizards use. Professor McGonagall has guessed that perhaps a wizard will be born to muggle royalty, but there are also species of magical creature that use the term to describe their leaders. It may be that one of them will step forward. Whoever it is, his arrival will mean we are getting close to the end of all this, one way or another."

Harry tried not to focus on that. Thinking about the end inevitably led to him contemplating his own death. "It doesn't say whose side he'll be on."

"Another matter that worries me greatly," Dumbledore admitted. "I'm afraid I must ask you to keep this a secret, even from your friends. Only the two of us, aside from Professor McGonagall know about it and I would like to keep it that way. It is for that reason that I will not be actively searching for this 'Half Blood Prince' for fear that Voldemort will be alerted and also begin looking."

"But what if we miss something because we're _not_ looking?" Harry objected.

Dumbledore smiled benignly, his eyes doing their trademark twinkle. "I am a firm believer in the human right to choose over the words of a prophecy," he said. "But there is always the possibility that by looking for him we will drive him straight to Voldemort. Prophecies are very complicated, we shouldn't take action until we completely understand it."

"Oh." As usual he wasn't sure what to make of the headmaster's enigmatic statements, but he let it pass.

Dumbledore picked up the parchment and touched his wand to it, setting it alight. He dropped it onto the counter where it burned quickly, leaving a small pile of ashes. He handed Harry the second piece of parchment.

Harry glanced at it, expecting another bombshell and was startled – and somewhat let down – to see his own OWL results. "Sir?"

"I managed to retrieve this from the _Daily Prophet _offices. The editor handed them over himself and was quite happy to do so, provided I pass on a request for an interview. Having now done so we need never mention it again."

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "Did he say where he got it from?"

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "It seems a high ranking Ministry official sent them via owl. They were accompanied by an anonymous note declaring that the public had a right to know every detail regarding the life of Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry scowled, both at the nickname and yet another plot against him. A thought occurred to him. "How do you know it was a high ranking Ministry official if the note was anonymous?"

"The editor took the liberty of showing me the note. I have been at Hogwarts, both as teacher and headmaster, for many years now and nearly everyone working at the Ministry today has passed through my school. I recognised the handwriting and took the letter to check against some samples of our more recent graduates' work."

"It was Percy, wasn't it?" Harry said angrily. Percy Weasley, assistant to the Minister for Magic, ex-Weasley and sell-out. Which put the whole thing right at Fudge's door, not that they'd ever be able to prove it.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore confirmed. "I need to ask whether you have given any more consideration to the matter of pressing charges."

Harry sat back with a huff. While at the Burrow he'd just tried to ignore the whole thing, hoping it would go away, but now he was faced with a decision. Although they probably had enough evidence to at least point a finger at Percy it wouldn't be enough and it would never implicate Fudge, who was likely the main instigator and without that all they would be doing was upsetting the Weasleys and dragging their name through the mud. "No, sir." He couldn't do that to them.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "And I must say, Harry, that was a very adult decision you just made."

Harry smiled weakly. There had never really been a choice; he could never hurt the Weasleys.

An hour later they were walking into King's Cross station. Harry felt very conspicuous walking with Dumbledore through the packed station. Although he was dressed in muggle clothes – a quite tasteless yellow pin-striped suit – Albus Dumbledore had the ability to be noticed anywhere he went and people were noticing. In a way Harry was thankful; as long as the muggles were staring at Dumbledore no one was looking at him. It certainly made passing through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters much easier.

Harry couldn't help grinning at the sight of the red train that would take him back to Hogwarts. There were a few families already here, but it was still too early to expect the Weasleys. Around the edge of the platform were red robed aurors, standing to attention.

A hand clasped his shoulder. "This is where I leave you, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Straight on the train, with you. You're safer there."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir. See you at school."

"Have a safe journey," Dumbledore said and with a quiet pop he disapparated.

Harry hopped up onto the train, glad he didn't have to wrestle with his trunk as well. As there were so few people about he easily found an empty compartment and settled down to wait, wishing he'd had the foresight to bring something to occupy himself with. Instead he turned and gazed out the window, watching as parents said goodbye to their children. He couldn't help but remember last year, when Sirius had accompanied them in his dog form and chased the train from the station. He felt the familiar tightness in his chest at the thought, but pushed the feelings away. He couldn't afford to let his grief incapacitate him any longer. Instead he recalled his latest conversation he had with Dumbledore. Who was this half blood prince and what did he have to do with the war? Harry only hoped he was on their side because they couldn't afford to lose another ally to Voldemort.

He tried to remember the exact wording of the prophecy. He wanted to write them down, but knew it was too big a risk to take at school where just anyone could find them. It would be a disaster if Malfoy found something like that; he'd go right to Voldemort and they'd lose a possible advantage.

The next time he looked out the window the platform was far more crowded and Harry tried to pick out faces of people he knew. Luna Lovegood was talking animatedly to a man that had to be her father if his bright orange and black striped robes were anything to go by and the Patil twins were hugging a small, tearful woman he surmised was their mother. Up and down the train students were leaning out the windows to call out final goodbyes as the first whistle blew to signify the train's imminent departure.

Harry began searching for the Weasleys. It seemed they were running late as usual. At every flash of red his heart leapt, only to be disappointed a second later. While keeping an eye open for them he found himself staring at a man standing on the edge of the platform. There was something about him that seemed very familiar, but he was sure he'd never seen the man before. He was a fairly average looking man, with longish brown hair and wearing brown trousers with a long shirt.

Harry blinked and looked closer. That wasn't a shirt it was some kind of long tunic, like the ones those people at the Burrow had been wearing. Was this man with them? Why was he here? Maybe they really were after him.

He stood up quickly and moved to the door, but it was already sliding open and Ron pushed his way in, dragging his trunk. Ginny and Hermione were right behind him with their own.

"Come on," Ron said urgently. "Mum's holding your trunk and the animals."

Harry followed him out, his heart racing. Would he be attacked the moment he stepped off the train?

Mrs Weasley enveloped him in a hug the moment she saw him. He took the opportunity to glance over her shoulder where he'd seen the man, but there was no one there.

"Mrs Weasley," he said urgently and explained what he'd seen as Ron took his trunk back to the compartment. She ushered them back on the train, handing up the cages with Hedwig, Pig and Crookshanks in.

"Don't worry about it, dear," she said quickly. "You're all safest on the train. I'll let the other Order members know and we'll make sure everyone gets away safely." The whistle blew as Ron returned. "Quickly now. Have a good year, boys, don't get into trouble and stay safe."

The train began moving slowly, leaving Mrs Weasley standing on the platform. She suddenly turned and strode back into the crowd.

Harry and Ron walked quickly back to the compartment where they'd left the girls, each carrying a bird cage, while Harry had Crookshanks tucked under his other arm.

"That was close," Ron commentes, sliding open the compartment door.

"We would have been here much earlier if you had packed properly last night," Hermione scolded.

Ginny was staring, longingly out into the corridor and avoiding meeting anyone's gazes. Harry knew she was searching for an excuse to leave and found he couldn't really blame her.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said. "Prefects meeting."

Ron sighed and slouched down further in his seat. "Do I have to?"

Hermione tutted and marched up the corridor. A moment later Ron pushed himself up and followed her.

Harry glanced at Ginny who was looking anywhere but at him. "I've got to go," she said suddenly.

"Wait," Harry called, but she was already gone. Harry sighed dejectedly. He felt bad that she didn't want to be around him and had hoped to talk to her, but it seemed it wasn't to be.

The compartment door slid open once more and Harry glanced up hoping maybe Ginny had returned. Instead a fourth year Gryffindor girl was staring at him.

"Hi Harry," she giggled.

"Er, hi," Harry said uncertainly.

She smiled widely. "I saw you all alone in here and thought I'd keep you company," she said.

Harry cast about for an excuse, but couldn't really think of one before she sat down close beside him. He shifted closer to the window, trying to put some distance between them. "Who are you?"

The girl's smile faltered only for a second before it returned full force. "Romilda Vane."

Oh, so this was the girl Hermione had mentioned and now that he was looking for it he could definitely see what she meant.

"I read about your engagement," she said with a pout. "Please tell me it isn't true."

"Yeah, Potter," came Malfoy's voice. "Please tell me there's no girl _that_ desperate."

Harry glared at him as he stood in the doorway flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Go away, Malfoy," he said angrily.

"Is it Granger?" Malfoy said. "Because that would certainly explain a lot. I wouldn't get too attached to her if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, standing up and stalking closer to Malfoy.

"Well, there's a war on, isn't there?" Malfoy said, buffing his nails against his robes. "There's bound to be casualties, especially amongst the mudbloods and I expect Granger will be top of that list when the Dark Lord hears about the two of you."

"She's not my girlfriend," Harry ground out. "Skeeter made the whole thing up."

Romilda brightened at that and Malfoy smirked at her. "Looks like you've got a volunteer. How sweet."

Romilda caught Harry's arm. "Make him go away, Harry."

"Shouldn't you be in the prefect meeting?" Harry asked, hoping Malfoy would just turn around and leave.

Malfoy scowled. "Why would I want to go and be bored to tears in the presence of mudbloods and muggle-lovers?"

"Because you're a prefect," Harry said scathingly. A thought occurred to him. "Or aren't you?"

Malfoy's scowl deepened and Harry laughed.

"Did they take your badge away? Poor Malfoy, now you don't have an excuse to bully the first years."

Malfoy pulled his wand out and pointed it at Harry. "Shut up, Potter."

Romilda squealed and shrunk back against the seat. "Harry!"

Harry drew his own wand and shouted, "_Expelliarmus_."

Malfoy's wand flipped through the air and into Harry's outstretched hand. He tucked it in his pocket and gave Malfoy a smug look. "If you turn around and leave now maybe I'll give this to McGonagall when we get to school. Otherwise I might drop it in the lake."

"I'm not leaving you with my wand, you barely know what to do with yours," Malfoy retorted. Crabbe and Goyle seemed uncertain if they should be backing Malfoy up or not.

"You're right," Harry grinned. "I'm feeling an irresistable urge to see just how _bendy_ your wand is."

Malfoy paled. "You wouldn't dare."

"What's going on?" Ron asked, pushing between Crabbe and Malfoy to stand by Harry. "Buzz off Malfoy." Out in the corridor Hermione was eyeing them warily. Behind her stood Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein, the Ravenclaw prefects.

"Fine, I'm leaving," Malfoy said, evidently feeling outnumbered and vulnerable without a wand; Crabbe and Goyle certainly wouldn't be much help in a magical fight. "Give Granger my wand, I can trust the goody-two-shoes not to do anything stupid with it."

"Alright," Harry agreed. Anything to get Malfoy to leave.

Hermione squeezed in and Harry passed her the wand. "You can get it back from McGonagall," she said firmly.

With one last glare Malfoy turned and stalked off, with Crabbe and Goyle following. As they disappeared Harry could hear Malfoy snap at one of his cronies, "give me your wand." With a wave Padma and Anthony walked off in the other direction.

As Harry snorted in glee Romilda jumped up and hugged him around the waist. He shrunk back from her and almost flinched when she stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "My hero," she whispered reverently.

Ron almost doubled up laughing while Hermione covered her smile with her hand. Harry just stood there frozen and hoped she'd let go soon.

Hermione took pity on him. "If you don't mind Romilda, I need a private word with Ron and Harry."

"Oh!" Romilda stepped back and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "A secret meeting of the Golden Trio! That's so cool!" She almost ran from the compartment in her excitement, calling over her shoulder, "see you later Harry."

"Yeah... bye," Harry called, still feeling a bit bewildered.

Ron fell onto the seat. "Your face, mate."

Hermione giggled. "Do you see what I mean now? I admit Romilda is probably one of the worst of your fans, but she's not the only one."

"What am I going to do?" Harry asked. Ron was still laughing so Harry smacked his arm. "It's not that funny."

"Just do what you always do," Hermione said. "Ignore it."

"But I didn't know it was happening then," Harry objected. "That girl is crazy."

Ron grinned at him. "Harry's got a stalker," he said in a sing song voice.

"She's not _that_ bad," Hermione said.

"Yet," Ron smirked. "But she kissed him and everything. It's just going to get worse."

Hermione sighed. "Didn't she read the article about you being engaged? I would have thought she would restrain herself if she knew you were taken."

Harry groaned. "She heard me tell Malfoy that it wasn't true."

"Oh dear," Hermione said. "Now she'll tell everyone; she's an awful gossip. Why did you tell him that?"

"He asked if it was you," Harry told her. "Then he suggested you would be in danger if Voldemort found out and it's what everyone's going to think isn't it? You're safer if he knows the truth."

"You could have just said it wasn't me," Hermione pointed out.

Harry coloured and Ron snickered at him. "What was she talking about when she said 'Golden Trio'?" Harry asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "You've never heard them calling us that?"

Harry shook his head. "Why on earth do they call us that?"

"Because there's three of us," Ron smirked.

"Prat," Harry said, smacking him again.

"They sometimes call you Dumbledore's Golden Boy; I think the Golden Trio developed from that," Hermione explained. "I expect it was someone like Malfoy that started it."

Harry groaned. "Great."

"I can't believe you've never noticed," Hermione went on. "Everyone watches us, did you know? You especially. Sometimes during meals everyone around us is so busy listening to what you're saying that they ignore the teachers. Sitting near you is something of a social indicator; the closer you are, the cooler you are. Even last year when everyone thought you were making it all up."

Harry's eyes widened in horror. "Are you telling me I'm the Gryffindor version of _Malfoy_?"

"No, no," Hermione said hurriedly. "You're nothing like him. The fact that you didn't even know this was happening just goes to show how different you are. People flock to Malfoy because he has money and influence and because he's a bully. We're with you because we care about you."

"Yeah, mate," Ron said. "We'd still be with you even if it wasn't for all that. You're... you know... you're like a fifth brother to me."

"Sixth," Hermione corrected automatically. Her eyes looked a bit misty as she gazed at Ron.

"Nah," Ron waved a hand dismissively. "I don't count Percy."

Harry felt a warmth spread through him at Ron's pronouncement. He'd never really had much of a family, but he supposed these two had become that for him over the years and he was incredibly grateful that Ron had chosen to walk into his carriage that first train ride to Hogwarts.

During the trip they were visited by many of their classmates, including Dean Thomas who was a bit cool with Harry. Once he'd left Hermione explained that Ginny had broken up with him over the summer and made no secret of the fact that she wanted to be with Harry instead. Harry wondered if they'd get back together now that he'd turned her down.

Students walking by their carriage peered in through the door as they passed, eager to get a glimpse of Harry. He bore it well for the most part, he'd had plenty of practise being stared at, but it still made him feel self-conscious, like he had something on his face. Hermione kept nagging him not to fidget every time someone passed by.

They changed into their robes as evening drew closer and they were joined by Neville Longbottom. Harry couldn't help staring at the boy, remembering that he was the other possible candidate for the prophecy and imagining what the world would have been like if Neville had been the Boy-Who-Lived. Neville had really grown over the summer and he was acting so much more confident than he'd ever been before, with his shoulders thrown back and his head held high. Even so Harry just couldn't picture it.

Neville showed them his new wand with a wide grin. "Unicorn hair and cherry wood," he said. "I thought my gran would go mental when I told her I'd broken dad's old wand, but she was really good about it. She kept going on about how I was living up to my parent's name and how they would be proud of me." He almost seemed to glow as he spoke.

"That's great Neville," he said entusiastically. Ron and Hermione would never know how much it meant for Neville to hear those words, but he understood.

"I'm really looking forward to the DA now," Neville said happily. "I can't wait to see if it helps with my spell work."

Harry's head snapped up at the mention of the DA. "What do you mean?"

"You are carrying on with the DA aren't you?" Neville said hopefully. "It really helped me last year; I know I never would have passed my defence OWL without it."

Harry glanced around at the others who were watching him carefully. "I dunno," he said at last. "Umbridge is gone now isn't she? If the teacher is even half way decent then we won't need the DA."

"The DA isn't just about learning to defend ourselves," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It's about learning to work together and to help us feel like we're making a difference in this war."

"So you think I should carry on," Harry asked uncertainly.

"It's up to you, mate," Ron put in. "But I know I'd like to keep at it."

"Even a good DADA teacher is going to be handicapped by what the Ministry and the school board will allow us to learn," Hermione pointed out. "With the DA we can decide what we want to learn ourselves."

"Did you know that all the DA members got E's?" Neville told them. "No one else even passed."

"There you go," Hermione said quickly. "That just goes to show what a good teacher you are."

Harry almost laughed at their enthusiasm. "I'll think about it."

It was dark by the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade and just beginning to rain. Harry pulled his cloak up over his head as they ran for the carriages, trying not to look at the skeletal thestrals that pulled them. It wasn't just Cedric that allowed him to see them now, but Sirius as well and he shuddered at the reminder.

When he entered the Great Hall Harry immediately became the focus of a lot of whispered conversations as those that hadn't seen him so far finally caught a glimpse of him. He heard a few muttered references to the _Prophet's_ newest nickname for him and prayed that it wouldn't catch on.

Hermione veered off towards the head table to drop off Malfoy's wand. Harry could see McGonagall's lips form a thin disapproving line as Hermione told her what had happened. He hoped that it was Malfoy she was annoyed with and not him. A few places up from her sat Snape with his usual scowl in place and on his left sat a dark haired woman whom Harry thought looked very familiar, but he couldn't recall when he'd seen her. Obviously she was the new Defence teacher.

Hermione joined them a few minutes later. "I managed to convince her not to take points as term hadn't started yet, but she said to tell you to refrain from fighting on the train in future."

"What?" Harry objected. "I didn't even start it."

"I know," Hermione said. "And she was impressed that you managed to end it so quickly and that no one got hurt. She'll return Malfoy's wand later and give him a lecture about not starting fights."

"Bet he'll love that," Ron grinned. "I doubt he's ever been told off in his life."

"He won't pay it a blind bit of notice," Hermione shrugged. "He'll be picking on first years again in no time, not even having his prefect badge taken away made an impact on him."

"Who are the new Slytherin prefects?" Harry asked curiously.

"Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass," Hermione said. "They're much better. Neither one of them has ever given me much trouble."

"They're still Slytherin's though," Ron said vindictively.

"Not all Slytherins are bad," Hermione said crossly. "If we just made an effort to reach out to them I'm sure we'd find some decent ones. Maybe we could invite Blaise and Daphne to the DA."

Ron glared at her. "Why'd you want to do that? They'll just report back to You-Know-Who."

As Ron and Hermione began to bicker Harry let his mind wander. He was pretty sure he'd worked with Blaise in Potions before and Hermione was right, he was fairly decent. He hadn't tried to sabotage Harry's potion anyway.

A sudden round of applause brought Harry's attention back to the present and he was startled to realise he'd missed the sorting hat's song. From the shameful looks on Ron and Hermione's faces he guessed they'd been arguing right through it and the beginning of the sorting..

McGonagall stood in front of the line of first years and read from her list. "Naomi Jameson."

"Hufflepuff," the hat shouted and the Hufflepuff table rang with applause. The tiny first year ran to their table where she shrank down amongst the older students.

Ron was juggling in his seat. "Why can't they serve food during the sorting?" he whispered petulantly.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Pay attention." She clapped hard as the hat called out "Gryffindor."

Even though he clapped every time a Gryffindor joined the table Harry, too, was eagerly awaiting the feast. The trolley seemed so long ago.

Finally it was over and Dumbledore stood. "Now is a time for eating, not speaking," he declared. "So tuck in!" With a clap of his hands the food appeared on the table and Harry reached for some steak and kidney pie while Ron dug into the roast potatoes. Hermione ate much more primly and eyed Ron distastefully when he shovelled so much potatoe in his mouth that it was dribbling down his chin.

As they ate Harry glanced up and down the Gryffindor table Hermione's words from the train still ringing in his ears. Sure enough their end of the table was densely packed, in some places so tightly that students were elbowing each other in the ribs, but no one was moving up to make room even though the other end of the table was nearly empty. The closer students were casting frequent looks at him and his friends and Neville, who was sitting to his right and Seamus on his left were receiving more than their fair share of jealous looks. Harry was suddenly very glad that they never discussed sensitive information at meal times and wondered how he'd never noticed any of this before.

"Hey, Harry," Romilda called from a few seats up casting him a huge smile.

"Hullo Romilda," Harry said dully. Her friends immediately pulled her into a huddled conversation which involved much giggling, squealing and secretive glances in his direction. He shuddered to think what they were talking about.

As the final dishes disappeared Dumbledore stood again and a hush fell over the room. "I have a few notices to give before you may leave for some well deserved rest. Firstly our caretaker, Mr Filch has banned any item from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, the popular new joke shop owned by our very own Weasley twins who I'm sure you'll all remember left these halls in a rather memorable fashion last year. Their shop can be found at number ninety Diagon Alley. Of course, I cannot condone the use of any of these products." His eyes were twinkling in overdrive as he spoke.

"Well that's one way to promote the twins I suppose; now everyone will be buying their products," Hermione frowned.

"I know, it's great," Ron grinned, completely missing Hermione's unhappy tone.

"First years please note that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, forbidden. A few of our older students would also do well to remember that." Hermione flushed pink and Harry remembered his last trip into the forest with her and Umbridge.

"Finally, please give a warm welcome to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Hestia Jones!"

As applause broke out once again Harry suddenly remembered the woman as one of the Order guard that had picked him up from the Dursley's before fifth year and she was the Order member Remus had told him got shot in the arm with an arrow. This could only bode well for the year ahead.

"That's great," Hermione said as they all started moving. "She must be good if she's in the you-know-what."

"The you-know-what?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Never mind, Ron," Hermione sighed. "Help me with the first years."

"Oi, you lot," Ron called. "This way firsties."

"Ronald!" Hermione snapped, slapping his arm. "First years to us."

Harry decided not to wait and went on ahead. He was eager to see the common room and his dorm room again. He had to wait a few minutes at the portrait entrance until a prefect came by to give him the password then hopped on through. He darted right up the stairs to the boy's dorms when he saw Romilda sitting with her friends in the commom room, not wanting to talk to her and barrelled through the door with the sign 'Sixth year boys' on it. Seamus and Dean were already there and Dean was pasting his poster of the West Ham football team above his bed while Seamus made his usual comments about the poster and football in general against quidditch. Harry grinned as he fell onto his bed. It was good to be home.


	7. Types of Magic

Chapter 7 – Types of magic.

He was still smiling when he woke the next morning. For once his sleep hadn't been plagued with nightmares or visions and he was grateful. He could hear Ron and Neville snoring even through the heavy hangings and couldn't help the grin that spread even wider across his face at the familiarity of it all. He sat up and stretched widely, while he wasn't ready to get up yet he knew he'd never get back to sleep now. He dressed silently so as not to awaken the others and quietly slipped out of the dormitory.

Hermione was already up and sitting in the common room reading a large book. She didn't even look up until he dropped onto the seat next to her. "Good morning Harry."

"Morning Hermione," Harry yawned.

Hermione clicked her tongue. "Cover your mouth when you yawn," she scolded. "It's impolite."

"Mmm," Harry agreed. "Sorry."

"Ron not up yet?" Hermione asked, putting her book to one side.

"Nah, I'll probably have to drag him out of bed like I usually do on the first day back."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'd think that by the age of sixteen he'd be able to get himself up instead of relying on you."

Harry shrugged. "It's alright. He does the same for me."

"And how often does _that_ happen?" Hermione demanded.

"Er," Harry shrugged again. "Not often?" He hoped she didn't notice the way his voice cracked as he said it.

"Hmm," Hermione frowned at him, but let it go.

"So, excited about classes?" Harry asked. He knew it was a redundant question with Hermione, but he was keen to stop her looking at him like that.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said eagerly and began to talk so quickly Harry's sleep addled mind struggled to keep up. He let her go on for a few minutes without really listening. A flash of red and black caught his eye and he turned in his seat to see Ginny darting past them without a word or even a backwards glance.

"She's not going to speak to me ever again is she?" Harry asked despondantly.

"Give her some time, Harry," Hermione sighed. "You broke her heart when you turned her down. She's been pining for you for a long time."

Harry let his head drop back on the back of the couch. As much as he was glad not to have Ginny permanently fixed to his side and attempting to flirt with him – not that he'd known what she was doing at the time – he had just started to get to know her and was saddened by the loss of a new friend.

"I'm going to wake Ron," he said and hurried up to the dorm room.

At the last minute Harry remembered that now he was back at school he could use magic. "_Aguamenti,_" he whispered and a stream of water poured from the end of his wand all over Ron's head and blankets.

"Argh." Ron woke up abruptly, spluttering and spitting. He glared up at a grinning Harry. "You'd better run, Potter."

Harry just laughed. "You'll have to get out of bed if you want to hurt me."

"_I'll_ hurt you if you don't let me sleep." Seamus growled from across the room. Dean picked a shoe up from the floor and chucked it at Harry who dodged it nimbly.

"You'll have to do better than that," Harry laughed. "If I can dodge a bludger travelling ninety miles an hour I'm not going to worry about your shoe."

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Neville asked gently as he ran a comb through his hair in front of the mirror.

Harry shrugged. "Just glad to be back at school I suppose."

"Bloody mental you are," Ron said throwing aside his wet quilt with a scowl.

Seamus let out a frustrated groan and hid his head under his pillow.

"Come on, rise and shine," Harry said happily, well aware of the way Ron was glaring at him. "We have _classes _this morning. You'll want to be wide awake for them." He smirked, knowing he had a secret weapon that would finally get Ron moving. "How else are you going to impress Hermione?"

He didn't wait for Ron to respond. He turned and ran through the open door and down the steps, taking them two at a time. He reached the bottom and barrelled straight into Hermione who was waiting at the bottom.

"Oops," he said lightly and bent to help her up. "Sorry."

"It's alright," she said, brushing down the back of her robes. "Although you really should look where you're going. Why were you running anyway?"

"Er..." There was no way he was going to tell her what he'd just said to Ron. "Ron'll be down in a minute."

"Hmm, shall I assume he won't be in the best of moods?"

Harry smiled slightly. "I think that would be a fairly accurate assumption."

"Boys," Hermione sighed. "I'll never understand what drives you to do these things."

"Well I'll never understand why girls talk in signals instead of using words," Harry retorted. "How are we supposed to know what you're trying to say?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said fondly. "That's the whole point."

Harry blinked at her. "So all girls really are just trying to confuse us?"

Hermione winked at him. "Maybe."

Harry groaned. He was about to reply when Ron stomped down the stairs, still in a foul mood. "Come on then," he said gruffly and pushed open the portrait hole. Harry and Hermione exchanged smiles before following him.

Ron refused to speak to either of them on the walk down to the Great Hall, but as usual, once he'd piled his plate high and began to inhale his breakfast he grew gradually more cheerful. Harry grinned to himself; the way to Ron's heart had always been through his stomach. He briefly considered mentioning that to Hermione, but decided having one friend chase him out of a room was enough for one morning.

McGonagall entered the Hall and Hermione instantly perked up, eager to get her timetable.

"Want to bet we've got Potions first?" Harry asked Ron.

"You maybe," Ron said between mouthfuls. Harry frowned. He'd forgotten that Ron had gotten out of Potions this year. Even though Hermione would still be there with him he knew that without Ron he would never be able to get through the next two years with Snape.

Hermione was watching McGonagall out of the corner of her eye while she feigned interest in their conversation. Harry hid his grin as he piled a generous helping of bacon and toast on his plate.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said, handing Hermione a sheet of parchment. "And Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

Harry frowned when he was given two slips of parchment, but McGonagall had already moved on down the table without giving him a second glance. Harry turned the first piece over and saw a few lines of neatly written script.

_Mr. Potter,_

_Due to your unique circumstances your timetable has been altered to show your Occlumency classes, but are labelled here as extra Transfiguration tutoring. Please be aware that these classes are to be held in the Headmaster's office and must be kept in the strictest confidence._

_Professor McGonagall._

_P.S. I ask that you make sure this note is destroyed as quickly and inconspicuously as possible._

Harry blinked and read the note through once more. With a quick glance around to make sure that everyone was distracted he held the note under the table and touched it with his wand. With a whispered word the note burned to a small handful of ash in seconds.

"What's that smell?" Hermione asked, glancing up from her own timetable.

"Maybe the house elves burned the toast," Ron suggested sniffing hard.

"I don't know," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It smells more like-"

"Hey, it's DADA first," Harry said quickly.

"I can't wait to see what sort of thing Hestia teaches us," Hermione said eagerly. "She's a member of... I mean Dumbledore will probably ask her to teach us loads of defensive spells now that everyone knows V-Voldemort's back. I'll have to remember to call her Professor Jones."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, glad to keep the conversation away from the smell of burnt parchment. He waved his wand under the table, muttering a quick vanishing charm.

"What was that?" Hermione said.

"I just said that I think she'll be good," Harry said. "I don't know her as well as you do though."

Hermione just nodded and turned back to her timetable and Harry took the opportunity to get a better look at his. 'Transfiguration tutoring' was two evenings a week, but he had some free classes during the day.

"Why doesn't it say which houses we're having classes with?" Ron asked. Harry realised he was right, unlike other years there was no indication of which house was in each class.

"Really, Ron," Hermione sighed. "It's because this year we get to choose what classes we take so they just put us in whichever ones fit with our choices. The only class still divided by house is Defence and that's only because nearly everyone's taking it." She leaned over and peered at Ron's timetable before nodding slightly and reaching for Harry's. "How did you get Professor McGonagall to agree to tutor you? Why didn't you ask me?"

"Well, er..." It wasn't that Harry didn't want to tell Hermione about the Occlumency – she had known he was taking it last year, after all – but now really wasn't the time to discuss it, especially after the revelations of the day before. "Do you remember our career counselling sessions last year? Well McGonagall kind of swore she would help me become an Auror no matter what. I think she said it mostly because Umbridge was saying I couldn't. I reckon these tutoring lessons are just her way of keeping that promise."

"Hmm," Hermione mused. "I wonder if she'll let me join you."

"What?" Ron spluttered. "You mean do extra classes? In the evening? When you don't have to?"

"Oh, Ron, it wouldn't hurt you to put some effort into your work you know," Hermione chided. "Next year we're taking our NEWTs. How do you expect to pass without at least working a little towards it?"

"I'll revise," Ron promised. "But I think _that's_ going a little too far."

"I'm with Ron," Dean said, leaning across Harry to get a plate of toast. "Who wants extra lessons?"

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said with a scathing glance at Ron. "I think it's excellent." She peered down the table where McGonagall was handing timetables to a group of first years. "I'm going to speak to the Professor."

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said. "I really don't think you'll be interested in these lessons. I mean..." His mind raced as he tried to think of some way to stop her without Dean overhearing anything he shouldn't. "I think we're just going to be going over _remedial Potions._ You know, like last year."

"Oh," Hermione said, sitting down with a thump. Her eyes widened as she worked out what he meant. "Oh."

"I heard you were taking that last year," Dean said lightly. "Bit of a surprise really. I didn't think Snape tutored anybody, especially not you."

Harry shrugged. "I think Professor Dumbledore made him."

"Wow, you must have been really bad if the Headmaster got involved."

Harry grimaced but didn't answer.

"Remedial Potions?" Ron said with a frown. "Wasn't that what you called your Occ... OW!"

Hermione shot him an apologetic look. "Sorry. My foot slipped."

Dean was looking at them suspiciously, but then he shrugged and turned to talk to Parvati on his other side.

"We'd better get to class," Hermione said pointedly glancing at her watch and picking up her bag. Sure enough the Great Hall was beginning to empty as students left for their first class of the day.

"But..." Ron stared down at his half finished breakfast. Eventually he sighed and stood up, following Harry and Hermione from the Hall and only stopping to grab a sausage on his way out.

They made their way to the Defence classroom and were soon joined by nearly all of the Gryffindor sixth years. Naturally the main topic of conversation was Hestia Jones. The popular opinion was that she would be some kind of dark creature that would try to eat the first years. Hermione was quick to admonish Seamus who kept insisting that she was a siren who would lure the boys into the lake to drown them. She assured everyone that she had met Hestia before and that Dumbledore trusted her and that should be enough for everyone.

"Thank you, Hermione," a quiet voice said from the now open classroom door.

"Hes... Professor Jones," Hermione stuttered. "I was..."

"Yes, I heard. Come in all of you."

Harry smiled as he passed the new professor. Unlike Hermione he didn't know her all that well, in fact he'd only spoken to her once, when she came to escort him from the Dursleys before fifth year. Since then he'd seen her in passing a few times, but not really had a chance to get to know her. Hermione had described her as a quick witted young woman who had made quite a study of Runes during her work as an Auror. Harry remembered Moony telling him that Jones had been wounded during the skirmish at the Burrow. She seemed well enough now so he put it out of his head as he took his seat.

"Now from what I've been told you've had some spotty teaching in this subject over the years," Jones began. A slew of mutters ran through the room and she held up her hands for silence. "Of all your teachers only Professors Lupin and Quirrell seem to have left notes of your progress and as those are at best two years old now I'll begin with a revision session to see just where you all are. I'm afraid we're going to have to start at the beginning, with _Expelliarmus._" She smiled at their groans. "I know it seems like kid stuff, but it's my job to get you all up to scratch and that means making sure you've got the basics down. Now pair up and practise the spell, I'll be walking around to see how you're doing."

Ron and Harry immediately teamed up, leaving Hermione to reluctantly partner Neville. By unspoken agreement Harry took aim first and called out the incantation. Moments later Ron's wand spun through the air and struck his palm. As he handed it back Jones called out, "Good, good. I was led to believe you weren't allowed to do any practical work last year, but you guys are doing really well. Now let your partners have a go."

Ron managed to disarm Harry on his first try and Harry glanced around to see how everyone else was doing. Nearly all the Gryffindor sixth years had been in the DA last year and he knew they could do this easily. He took great pride in watching Neville disarm Hermione with a confidence he hadn't had a year ago. Only Seamus appeared to have any difficulty as he had only joined the DA right before they'd been broken up by Umbridge.

"That's great," Jones said, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "Let's move onto _Impedimenta._"

Again the pairs turned to face each other and performed the spell. They quickly ran through various blocking spells and hexes with Jones getting more and more impressed as time went by. At the end of the class she allowed them to practise the stunning spell before asking them all to retake their seats.

"Good work," she said as she sat behind her desk. "Apparently Professor Umbridge was a better teacher than I was led to believe."

The class immediately broke out into angry comments as they all tried to tell Jones just how wrong she was.

Jones called for silence. "I see I was wrong. Then how do you explain the fact that despite your previous teachers you're all right where you should be as sixth years, maybe even a little ahead?"

"It was Harry," Lavender said loudly. "He taught us these spells in the DA."

"He's a really good teacher," Parvati added, turning in her seat to wink at Harry.

Harry felt his cheeks getting warm and ducked his head slightly.

"I did hear about that," Jones admitted. "I was told it was only a revision group."

"We learnt loads," Dean objected.

"I would have failed my OWL for sure if it weren't for the DA," Lavender concurred.

Jones smiled at Harry. "Can I expect the same level of excellence from my other sixth year classes?"

"Er," Harry began nervously. "There were a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs involved, but no Slytherins at all."

"We also had some students from other years," Hermione added. "We even had Dennis Creevey from fourth year."

Jones' smile widened. "I've got to say I'm impressed. I was expecting all my classes to be really behind. Instead you're as advanced as I could have hoped. Well done, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry muttered as his classmates all turned to grin or wave at him. Lavender and Parvati even began to clap loudly.

Thankfully the bell chose that moment to ring and Harry reached for his bag.

"No homework today," Jones called as they gathered their things. "Next time we'll begin work on silent casting."

Hermione was almost floating as they left the room. "That was really good," she said happily. "Professor Jones is going to be a really great teacher, don't you think?"

Harry gave a non-committal shrug. It had seemed to go smoothly, he only wished they'd been able to have a little less focus on him. As far as he was concerned the DA was such a success because all the members were so keen, not only to show up Umbridge, but to do anything to help them feel they were preparing for the inevitable war.

"We'll be doing silent casting in all our classes this year," Hermione told them as they made their way to Transfiguration. "We don't learn it before because our powers aren't developed enough before fifth year and we can't learn it next year because of NEWTs."

The door was open when they arrived and they quietly took seats near the back of the room. Lavender, Parvati and Neville had disappeared sometime during the trek from DADA but Dean and Seamus were already there as were a few others from various houses. Harry's heart sank when he saw Malfoy sitting with a Slytherin girl he vaguely remembered was named Daphne Greengrass. At least McGonagall would keep them under control.

McGonagall closed the door and marched to the front of the class. "As you should already know this year is when we begin silent casting. You may have already learned this in your other classes, if so, please bear with me as I explain to those who have not yet heard it.

"Despite common misconceptions all magic can fit into six categories. Can anyone tell me the name of one of them? Mr. Finnegan."

"Um," Seamus looked around at Dean for help, who merely shrugged. "Accidental magic?"

"That is one kind, yes. Five points to Gryffindor. When we are small children our magic escapes us in unexpected ways; this is called accidental magic. I am sure all of you could tell me about instances where you yourself used accidental magic when you were frightened or angry. For the most part those displays were uncontrolled emotion based reactions to the events around you, but they grew less frequent as you learnt to use a wand. You may have performed some amazing feat of magic as a wandless child that you could not hope to duplicate now you know what you are doing, that is perfectly normal.

"Some wizards, such as Professor Dumbledore, have been capable of small acts of _controlled_ wandless magic, also known as thought magic. This kind of magic takes a great deal of concentration and is only possible for extremely powerful wizards and witches. It is also an extremely limited type of magic.

"Next we have internal magic; where the caster turns their own magic inward. Although a wand is not used it does not come under wandless magic because it has no effect on the world around the caster. Can anyone give me some examples of internal magic?"

Naturally Hermione's hand was the first in the air, followed quickly by Terry Boot.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said briskly.

"Metamorphmagi," Hermione said promptly. "The gift of transforming one's appearance. It's not an ability that can be learned, rather it appears to be genetic. It's a very rare talent. I think there are only three metamorphmagi in all of Britain."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," McGonagall said. "Mr. Boot, perhaps you can name another."

"Animagi," said Terry. He glanced at Hermione before adding, "is a learned ability even though it's nearly as rare as metamorphmagi due to the difficulty of learning it. It's the name given to a wizard who can turn himself into an animal."

"Very good, Mr. Boot, although you neglected to mention that a wizard may only become one animal, which best fits his personality and is often referred to as the totem animal and may not simply become any animal he wishes. Ten points to Ravenclaw." McGonagall instantly transformed into the cat form Harry had seen a few times before and jumped up onto her desk. She sat primly and allowed them to stare at her for a few moments then jumped to the floor and turned back into her human form. "Apparition – the ability to travel great distances in the blink of an eye – also falls under this category. We will talk more about internal magic later this year, particularly the animagus transformation and you will be studying apparition, if you so wish, as a three week course sometime in the spring term.

"There is also mind magic, an incredibly difficult discipline that I hope none of you will attempt without years of study or at least a competent teacher," McGonagall was pointedly looking over Harry's head as she spoke. He didn't need Hermione's elbow in his ribs or the pointed look she gave him to realise that Occlumency must fall under this category. Obviously Hermione had not forgotten their discussion at breakfast.

"Needless to say," McGonagall continued, "mind magic is dangerous and anyone using it without fully understanding it could potentially do great damage without meaning to. Yes, Mr. Malfoy, was there something you wished to say?"

Malfoy, who had been whispering something to Greengrass, shook his head. As McGonagall resumed her lecture he looked right over at Harry and smirked. Harry glared back.

"Very well then," McGonagall said with a stern look. "Now we come to wand magic. I'm sure I don't need to tell you much about that as you've been studying it for the last five years. It is the easiest kind of deliberate magic to perform which is why we start you off with it.

"From there we are led to the point of this lecture. Silent casting. Some people have argued that this belongs in the same category as wand magic as the only difference is the lack of spoken incantation. Miss Abbot, can you tell me how silent magic is performed?"

Beside Harry Hermione looked like she was desperate to answer as she bit her lip to keep silent.

"It, um, you have to concentrate on the incantation without saying it?" Hannah Abbot said uncertainly.

McGonagall nodded. "This type of magic takes a great deal of concentration. You need to keep in your mind the incantation and the spell effects or nothing will happen. Any spell can be cast silently if you can cast it aloud. Wand movements are exactly the same. This year all spells performed in this class and any other will be silent. On my desk there is a box of mice. You will each retrieve one and attempt to transfigure it into a matchbox without the incantation. I expect complete silence as there will be no need to speak."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Charms went much the same way as Transfiguration with another lecture on silent magic by Professor Flitwick. Hermione rushed them through lunch before chasing them from the Great Hall and into the library which was completely empty.

"You're going to be taking Occlumency again?" she started immediately, making Harry wonder just how long she'd been holding that in.

"Yeah," said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "Dumbledore wanted me to carry on."

"I think that's great," Hermione said firmly. "Anything to stop those dreams of yours."

Harry blinked and turned to glare at Ron.

"Sorry mate," Ron said.

"Don't blame Ron," Hermione insisted. "I asked him after I heard you yelling one night back at the Burrow. I made him tell me."

Harry huffed. "It's not that bad."

"Yes, well you would say that," Hermione said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded.

"Only that you always insist that you're fine even when it's painfully obvious to everyone around you that you're not."

"I'm with Hermione," Ron said. "It's really scary seeing you after one of your visions. If Occlumency helps then I reckon you should do it, even if it does mean putting up with Snape.

"Actually Dumbledore's teaching me himself," Harry told them.

"Really?" Hermione said excitedly. "Can you imagine being taught by Professor Dumbledore? I bet he's amazing. From what I've seen of the school records he was a fantastic teacher."

Harry nodded. "It feels like he's always teaching me, even when we're just talking about stuff."

Hermione gazed at him, jealousy evident in her face. "You have no idea how lucky you are, do you? You get all this time with Professor Dumbledore and he's one of the most powerful and intelligent wizards who have ever lived. I would kill to be able to talk to him just for a few minutes."

Harry gazed at her blankly. "I bet if you really wanted to talk to him he'd be only too happy to listen."

Hermione gasped. "Oh, I couldn't waste his time like that."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Dumbledore's a legend. My whole life everyone's always been telling me about how he defeated Grindelwald and how if it weren't for him You-Know-Who would have taken over the first time. He's always seemed a little larger than life to me."

"I may not have heard those stories growing up, but in all the books I read before I started Hogwarts Dumbledore was portrayed as the saviour of the wizarding world. Around him I always feel a bit small, you know, like I'm still an insecure eleven year old girl."

"I..." Harry began. "Really? He always seems so happy to talk to me." Harry thought about it. Maybe that was why. If everyone else was so afraid to treat Dumbledore like a real person was it so surprising that he acted like anyone who treated him normally was the most important person in the world to him. For the first time Harry could see the parallels between himself and the Headmaster. He hated it when people treated him with reverence just because of his name and valued Ron and Hermione all the more because they didn't. He resolved never to fall into that trap with Dumbledore. It was with a start that he realised he already had, that he'd treated Dumbledore like he should have all the answers and reacted badly when he realised that wasn't true. Wasn't it only two months ago that Dumbledore had admitted to being an old man who sometimes made mistakes? Why hadn't he been listening then?

"Well, you're a lot like Dumbledore," Hermione said gently. "It's not hard to see that he cares about you a great deal."

And Harry had yelled and thrown things at him. True, he'd just lost Sirius and had a right to be upset, but he didn't have a right to act like that. And Dumbledore had forgiven him, without an apology, without even some semblance of remorse.

"We've got Potions," Harry mumbled. He needed to end this conversation and give himself a chance to think.

They left Ron in the Entrance Hall and continued on down to the dungeons. Harry took a deep breath as he approached the classroom door and Hermione shot him a concerned glance. He couldn't help but feel he was walking straight into a dragon's den. At least he had Hermione with him.

Like in previous years the classroom was set up in lines of desks, each seating two people. At each end of every desk was a cauldron with unlit fires beneath them for when they worked on a potion alone. Harry slid into a desk at the very back of the room. Hermione looked longingly at the front of the class, but sat next to him without a word.

This class was smaller than any of the others Harry had been to so far, probably because Snape only took students who had received an O on their O.W.L. exam. He and Hermione were the only Gryffindors along with four Ravenclaws and only one Hufflepuff. The other five students were all Slytherins, including Malfoy.

Snape swept into the room with a foul look on his face. "I see some of you have managed to get into this class despite a distinct lack of ability," he said sourly, his eyes flickering from Harry to Ernie Macmillan who sat alone at a desk at the front of the room. "This year will test you beyond the limits of your meagre minds. I assure you that if you find yourself unable to keep up you are most welcome to leave before I throw you out."

Harry frowed, but he was determined not to rise to the bait. He had earned his O.W.L. on his own and nothing Snape said could take that away.

"Many of the potions you will be brewing this year require two people to work on them," Snape said with a glance at Daphne Greengrass who was also sitting alone. "Therefore you will all have a permanent partner. For the most part I will allow you to work with the person you are now sitting with."

Harry glanced at Hermione in relief.

"However," Snape continued. "A few changes are necessary. Miss Granger, you will work with Mr. Macmillan and Mr. Potter with Miss Greengrass."

Harry gaped. "But-"

"Do not argue with me, Potter," Snape said. "Pick up your things and move."

Harry glared but did what he was told. Even though he was stuck with a Slytherin, Greengrass was infinitely better than Malfoy. Judging by the look on Hermione's face she was no happier about the change than Harry was. Neither was Greengrass if her pursed lips and slightly red cheeks was anything to go by.

"I apologise, Miss Greengrass, for placing you with such an undesirable partner," Snape said. "But Potter needs a partner who actually knows what she is doing."

A slight gasp from ahead of him made Harry's stomach clench with anger. Snape could say what he wanted about Harry, but he had no right to belittle Hermione's skill at Potions.

"Rest assured that Potter's incompetence will not effect your own grades." Snape flicked his wand at the board and it was instantly filled with the directions for today's potions. "Get to work," he snapped without further explanation.


	8. Dreams

Chapter 8 - Dreams

Harry's first Occlumency lesson wasn't until the end of the week. He knocked on Dumbledore's office door with some trepidation, silently hoping that this wouldn't be anything like his lessons with Snape.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore called from within.

Harry opened the door and stepped in. "Hello, Professor," he said as he took a seat before the large desk.

"Good evening," Dumbledore greeted him. "I trust your first week back has been fruitful."

Harry shrugged, keen to just get on with it before remembering his vow to treat Dumbledore like a normal human being. "Good, sir," he said. "I'm finding silent magic a bit difficult, but I think I'm starting to get it."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as much as Harry had ever seen them. "I have faith in your abilities to master it eventually. Do not allow yourself to fall into the trap of over thinking it. That has hindered the progress of many students over the years. Relax and let the magic come to you."

Harry fiddled with his cuff as he thought about it. He spent an awful lot of time concentrating on what he was trying to do before attempting a silent casting, but that was what all the teachers insisted was the right method. Was Dumbledore suggesting he would get better results if he just jumped straight into it?

Dumbledore was smiling at him over his spectacles. "Would it help you to know that I myself found the concept difficult at first? Sometimes the 'only way' to do something is actually the only way for everyone else to do it. Those of us that are different and more powerful than most, must find our own way."

Harry found himself gaping. "I'm nowhere near as powerful as you, sir." He couldn't believe he'd just been compared to Dumbledore – by Dumbledore himself no less.

Dumbledore winked. "Not yet, perhaps, but you are young and still learning. One day, I think you will be far greater than me."

Harry hung his head in embarrassment. There was no way he'd ever become that powerful.

"You doubt me," Dumbledore said gently. "But then you cannot see what I see in you."

Harry glanced up. What did Dumbledore see? Was he referring to the 'power the Dark Lord knows not?'

"In any case," Dumbledore continued. "The techniques you will learn in these sessions will aid you with silent casting."

Harry nodded eagerly.

Dumbledore stood and walked slowly to one of the cabinets. He bent and retrieved his pensieve before standing and placing it on the desk before Harry. He did not return to his seat behind the desk, instead he knelt next to Harry.

Harry watched curiously. Was Dumbledore going to remove some of his memories like Snape did?

"Before we begin," Dumbledore said quietly. "I would like you to place some of your more recent visions within the pensieve. Not only might they provide valuable information but it is possible I might find some clue as to what techniques will be most effective to stop them."

Harry felt a lump form in his throat. "How do I do it?"

"Merely concentrate on the memory, then imagine it as a strand of magic."

Harry frowned as he tried to do as Dumbledore said. Finally he nodded.

"Place your wand to your temple and imagine the memory strand sticking to it, then pull your wand away."

Harry watched in amazement as a grey strand of memory followed his wand from his head and dangled above the pensieve where it eventually dropped into the swirling mass of memory below. He repeated the process two more times, placing a new dream in the pensieve each time.

"Well done," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together once Harry had finished. "It shouldn't take me but a few moments to watch those and then we will begin Occlumency. Would you like to watch them with me?"

Harry chewed his lip before silently shaking his head. He didn't think he could handle seeing them again.

"Very well." Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry wondered if Dumbledore had somehow seen the reason for his reluctance even though they hadn't been making eye contact.

Once Dumbledore had disappeared inside the pensieve Harry took the opportunity to look around the office. It looked much the same as it always did with Fawkes' perch in the corner, the old sorting hat on a shelf along with a lot of other bric a brac and small tables taking up much of the floor space, each one with a delicate silver trinket sitting atop it.

It was these silver objects that held Harry's attention. The last time he was here he had thrown a number of them at Dumbledore along with some of the tables. His stomach clenched at the uncomfortable reminder

Fawkes, as if sensing Harry's sombre mood, flew across the room to settle on the back of Harry's chair. He crooned happily as Harry stroked his soft feathers and Harry couldn't help but feel his mood lift.

"I should apologise," Harry said softly. "He was just trying to help and I threw his stuff at him."

Fawkes only sang a few notes in response, but Harry felt heartened by it.

"Fawkes has always been very fond of you," Dumbledore said. Even though his voice was quiet Harry jumped in his seat and Fawkes let out an annoyed chirp.

Dumbledore took his seat and observed Harry thoughtfully.

"Did you find anything helpful, sir?" Harry asked to break the silence.

"Perhaps," he replied. "The first dream you showed me was one you had whilst staying with the Weasleys this summer. You and Voldemort were one and the same."

Harry nodded. "Those are always the worst ones," he said, lightly touching his scar.

"Then you have noticed that your visions come in two varieties. In both of the others dreams you showed me you were separate from Voldemort, looking on from an outside perspective. Am I to understand that the pain you experience is less at these times?"

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "My best guess would be that the dreams where you see yourself as Voldemort occur when you are drawn more deeply into his mind. Perhaps these are the times when he draws you to him and the others – where you are a separate entity – are a result of your own mind wandering voluntarily to his." He sighed. "I will think on it and let you know if I deduce anything further. May I keep these memories in my pensieve so I might further study them?"

Harry nodded again.

"Another thing that I noticed was during the second vision you showed me you used magic effectively."

Harry shuddered. He remembered that vision, the one where he'd watched a wizard named Derrick be murdered for marrying a muggle.

"It shouldn't have been possible," Dumbledore continued. "Your dream self is like an astral projection. Although you have a sense of self you are not truly there and you certainly shouldn't be able to perform magic, accidental or otherwise. And yet you did."

Harry frowned. "What does it mean?"

"It means your power is growing faster than even I predicted."

Harry ignored that. "But is there some way I could use that next time I have a vision? Maybe I could save someone if I-"

"It is not your responsibility to save Voldemort's victims," Dumbledore interrupted. "That is why you are here; to learn to shut him out of your mind."

Harry frowned. "But if I do have a vision, can I at least try?"

"I imagine you could not help yourself," Dumbledore said sadly. "Yes, Harry. If you find yourself in that situation I see no reason why you cannot try. Voldemort cannot hurt you beyond the pain in your scar and I do not think he could want to kill you any more than he already does."

Harry gave him a small smile. "How do I do it?" he asked suddenly. "Last time it just happened."

"Alas I cannot teach you to do that which I do not understand myself," Dumbledore admitted. "My advice would be to try anything and everything. What I _can_ do at this time is teach you how to block these visions so it does not become an issue in the first place."

Harry sat up straighter. "Where do we start?"

"Why don't you tell me what you covered with Professor Snape?"

"Not much really. He just told me to clear my mind and then cast _Legillimens._"

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you sure he did not teach you the fundamentals of meditation?"

Harry shook his head. He took a perverse pleasure in the look of sudden anger that crossed Dumbledore's face before his calm mask reasserted itself.

"I see. In that case we shall start from the very beginning." He flicked his wand at himself and his robes were changed into loose black trousers and a bright yellow shirt with tiny little dragons glittering on it. His tall hat was transfigured into a sweat band.

It was all Harry could do not to start laughing. "Do I need to change too, sir?"

"Not at all, although in future you may want to wear loose muggle clothing to these lessons." Dumbledore stood and waved his wand at the tables, making them walk off to stand by the walls.

"Today, Harry, I will begin to teach you Tai Chi."

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"Tai Chi?" Hermione exclaimed when Harry told her about his lesson the next day.

"What's that?" said Ron looking a bit perplexed.

They were in the library, at Hermione's insistence, searching for anything that could help with their essay from McGonagall on how silent magic affected spell casting.

"It's a muggle form of martial arts," Hermione explained. "It originated in China hundreds of years ago."

"Right," Ron said slowly. "And how does this tetchy thing help with Occlumency?"

The sound of a throat being cleared made them all turn towards the front desk where Madame Pince was eyeing them. They turned back to their books silently for a few minutes until Ron elbowed Harry in the ribs and sent him a questioning look.

"Dumbledore said it will help me to relax," Harry whispered. "I can use it to build my Occlumency barriers until I get good enough to do it without."

Hermione nodded approvingly.

"I bet Dumbledore was angry with Snape for not teaching you that before," Ron said in a joyous tone.

"Ron," Hermione hissed. "Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape. He's on our side even if his methods are a bit... unkind. Keep it down. Do you want to get us kicked out?"

"If he was angry he barely showed it," Harry said. What he wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall when Dumbledore gave Snape a talking to. No doubt Snape would accuse Harry of lying.

"Ssh," Hermione said angrily. "Madame Pince is looking at us again."

With a long drawn out sigh Ron glared down at his book as if it were the one telling him to be quiet.

As Harry was turning the page of his own book a slight movement caught his eye. He glanced up to see someone moving some books on the other side of the shelf opposite him. He saw a pair of eyes peering through at him for a second before whoever it was moved away quickly. Someone giggled.

Harry looked back down to the pages of his notes, but found it difficult to concentrate. Behind the shelves someone was having a whispered conversation in between loud giggles.

"What's going on?" Hermione said in exasperation.

There was another giggle followed by a thud as someone dropped a book. Three girls, Harry decided, trying to just ignore it. There were definitely at least three different giggles he'd heard so far.

Madame Pince went storming past them, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

"They're as bad as those girls that used to follow Viktor around," Hermione said. Her eyes widened as she seemed to realise something. "Oh." She stared at Harry in dismay.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Well this is going to make studying here far more difficult from now on," Hermione said, throwing her quill down in disgust.

"If you're not here to work then you shouldn't be here at all," Pince said as she ushered three fourth year girls past their table and out towards the doors. The girls weren't giggling anymore, but they didn't seem particularly put out either. One of them smiled brightly at Harry as she passed.

"You're going to have to do something about that," Hermione said irritably.

Harry gaped at her. "Me?"

"Who else?" Hermione demanded. "It's you they've come to stare at. And if they're anything like they were with Viktor it won't end here."

"Come off it, Hermione," Ron said easily. "Krum's a Quidditch player."

"And Harry's the Chosen One. Trust me, this won't be the last of it."

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Hermione was right. In fact it only got worse. Hermione had resorted to getting all Harry's library books herself and bringing them back to the common room. The Gryffindors were better than the rest of the school as they knew Harry better, but the younger years were still trying his patience on a daily basis. The girls were the worst, always staring at him and giggling. There was even one particularly bold group of second years who dared each other to run their fingers through Harry's hair one day. After that they started studying in the Room of Requirement.

Classes were better but they had their own difficulties attatched. Dumbledore's advice on silent magic proved invaluable and he was soon doing as well as Hermione. It was much easier when he relaxed than when he tried to force it although this went against what they were taught in class. The teachers and Hermione were adamant that concentration was the key and maybe it did work for many of the students, but it certainly didn't for him. However when Hermione tried his new method she found herself struggling and Ron got even further behind than he was before so maybe it wasn't better for everyone.

Defence was going well. Professor Jones was turning out to be a good teacher who split their lesson time between learning new spells and practising silent magic. As they were the only ones capable of much so far Harry and Hermione had been allowed to attempt a silent duel. Harry found that in a tense situation they were both struggling as he was unable to stay completely calm and Hermione was unable to concentrate fully. The end result of the duel was the two of them laughing hysterically at their painfully miscast spells. They both realised they were a long way off having mastered silent magic.

Potions, on the other hand, was not going as well. Greengrass, while not openly hostile, made it very clear she wasn't happy with him as a partner. She was aloof, barely speaking a word unless she needed him to do something and only making eye contact when absolutely necessary. Still it could have been worse. He could have been partnered with Malfoy.

Whenever he had a free moment he spared some thought to some of the mysteries that had come up over the summer, like the identity of the mysterious people in the woods outside the Burrow and the Half-Blood Prince in Trelawney's prophecy.

It was during the last week of September that Harry was approached by Katie Bell whilst he was playing Chess with Ron in the common room. She pulled him to one corner of the room where they could talk with little fear of being overheard.

"What is it?" Harry asked with concern. It was unusual for Katie, who was so laid back, to be acting so furtive.

"I thought I could handle it, but I can't," Katie confessed, pressing something small and hard into Harry's hand. "I can't afford to fail my N.E.W.T.s and I don't want to let the team down. I'm already so overwhelmed and we haven't even had tryouts yet. This is the only thing I can think of. I already spoke to McGonagall and she said she supported my decision."

"What..." Harry glanced down to see a small red badge sitting on his palm. He turned it to see the letters 'QC' in gold lettering. He'd seen Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson wearing this exact same badge. "Quidditch Captain? Katie this is _your_ badge."

"Not anymore," Katie said stiffly. "I'll still play chaser if you'll let me, but I can't be captain."

"Of course you can be chaser," Harry said in surprise. "You're the only one we've got left. But I wasn't even on the team at the end of last year. Shouldn't Ron get this." He really didn't want to say it, the allure of the badge was very strong, but Ron had dreamed of this his whole life. Even so he could picture himself wearing this badge, leading the team... but no. It wasn't fair to Ron.

"McGonagall was very specific," Katie shrugged. "It has to go to you next. Unless you can come up with a valid reason you shouldn't be captain, I suggest you get used to the idea." She waited while he stared down at the badge hopefully. "Look at it this way: why does he deserve it any more than you do? Ron was only on the team for a year and we nearly lost the match against Slytherin because of his lack of confidence. Is that really the person you think should be Captain? You may not have been on the team all of last year, but you were the youngest seeker in a century and you were on the team for four years and only ever lost us one match. You're also a natural leader."

Harry smiled shyly. "Being Captain would be pretty cool."

"And you'll be really good at it," Katie assured him. "I've already set up tryouts for this Saturday at ten. You'll need to put a sign up on the notice board, but if you don't mind some advice, don't let anyone know you're the Captain before then."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"Let's just say it will keep down the number of people who show up just to stare at you," Katie smiled before heading over to her friends.

Harry pocketed the badge and walked back to Ron.

"What was that about?" Ron asked curiously.

Harry glanced around to make sure no one but Hermione was close enough to hear. "Katie made me team Captain," he explained.

He almost expected the flash of jealousy to cross Ron's face, but he was surprised by the long suffering sigh from Hermione.

"_That_ won't get rid of the fangirls will it?" she said sarcastically.

"Promise you won't tell anyone," Harry begged. "Katie thought it might be easier at tryouts if no one knew."

Hermione nodded and went back to her book. Harry glanced at Ron.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I won't tell." He seemed to shake himself and brightened noticeably. "Well done, mate."

Harry was glad that Ron was at least making an effort to be happy for him. "Thanks, but I was only McGonagall's second choice and that's probably only because I've been on the team since first year."

"Yeah, well you deserve it anyway," Ron said with a determined glint in his eye. He wasn't looking at Harry though, but at Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione's approving look.

Harry hid a grin. No matter what Ron said it was increasingly obvious that he fancied Hermione. He wasn't quite sure how Hermione felt, she was much harder to read than Ron.

He stared absently at the back of Hermione's Arithmancy book without realising what he was seeing before the words began to register on his brain. The book was about the use of numbers in Arithmancy. Would it hold the answer to Trelawney's prophecy?

"Hermione," Harry began slowly, trying to seem nonchalant. "What's a magical prime?"

Hermione looked up in surprise. "A prime number is any number that can only be divided by itself and one," she explained. "Like thriteen. It can only be divided by one or thirteen. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. He remembered bits of that explanation from muggle primary school. "So what makes a prime number magical?"

"Nothing," Hermione said. "But seven is often thought to be the most magically powerful number and it is a prime." She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, it's just something Dumbledore mentioned," Harry said easily. "It's not important. I was just curious."

Fortunately Hermione let it go and began to read which allowed Harry to ponder what she had said. Seven. Two score and a dozen – that was fifty two. What did those numbers have to do with each other? He almost slapped himself in the head when the answer came to him. There were seven days in a week and fifty two weeks in a year. The half blood prince would be coming in a year, or at least a year from when the prophecy was spoken. Dumbledore had said it was sometime in August hadn't he?

He felt a sudden jolt in his scar, wiping the thoughts from his mind and he pressed his hand to it. He was used to the sensation these days as Voldemort was much more active, but usually he could discern some emotion from the pain. Today he could feel nothing beyond his own excitement and some butterflies in his stomach. Was that his own nervousness about being Quidditch Captain, or was that coming from Voldemort? It was so hard to tell sometimes.

"Harry?" Hermione said in concern.

"Just my scar," Harry said lightly. He concentrated on the feeling. "I think he's expecting something. Something that will help him."

"Should you go and tell Dumbledore?"

Harry frowned. "What would I tell him? It's just a feeling."

"But maybe he'll understand it better than you do," Hermione suggested. "He has access to more information than us. It may be more important than you think; how whould you feel if you didn't tell him straightaway and it makes things worse?"

Harry stared at her. "You're right." His gut reaction had been to ignore it, but he'd promised last year that he wouldn't just dismiss Hermione's warnings anymore. She was so often right and it wouldn't exactly hurt him to send Dumbledore a note.

No sooner had he had the thought than Hedwig was tapping on the window with her beak. Harry jumped up to let her in.

"How did you know I needed you, girl?" Harry crooned as he scratched the top of her head.

"Hedwig's marvellous," Hermione said. "She always seems toknow when I want to send you a letter over the summer and just appears. It's like she's psychic." Hedwig was preening her feathers, but perked up at Hermione's words and looked around regally.

"Wish she could teach Pig that trick," Ron said with a laugh. "While she's at it she could teach him how to not be a complete idiot."

Harry scribbled out a quick note and tied it to her leg. "Take it to Dumbledore," he instructed Hedwig, carrying her to the window.

He watched her fly off, feeling oddly light now that it wasn't his problem. Maybe there was something to this whole 'taking your problems to an adult' thing after all.

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_There was an was about twice again as big as his fist and glowing with a faint white light. _

_Harry was holding it in the palm of his hand and staring at it as if it were a crystal ball about to tell him the wonders of his future, and maybe it was._

"_Report," he said trying not to let his excitement show in his voice._

"_My Lord," said a voice, emanating from the orb. The voice was strange, like the kind that was synthesized by muggle computers. Harry paused wondering where that thought had come from. What was a computer? And why did it have a synthesized voice. "Rudolphus and I recovered the text. He is bringing it to you now for inspection."_

"_Very good," Harry said. He resisted the urge to laugh with glee. It wouldn't do to have his servants think he had a sense of humour._

"_My Lord," the voice said hesitantly. "There is one small problem."_

"_What is it?" Harry demanded impatiently. This was supposed to be a simple mission, how could they have messed it up?_

"_The book was exactly where we were told it would be," the voice said quickly. "There were no problems retrieving it, but... my Lord, the book is written in some of the oldest Runes I've ever seen. They will not be easy to translate."_

_Harry paused. It was a problem and not one he could punish his servants for. This could delay his plans for weeks, if not months, but it was still not impossible. "That is why I have an expert on Runes on hand," he said pointedly._

"_Yes, my Lord," the voice said eagerly. _

"_I will take care of it. Well done, my servant."_

"_Thank you, my Lord," the voice said._

"_You may return to your post," Harry said, waving a hand over the orb. It instantly turned black and he placed it on the small table beside his chair._

_There was a knock on the door. "Enter," Harry called._

_Rudolphos Lestrange shuffled into the room and bowed deeply. "Master. I have brought you the book." He took a few paces forward and held out the book with slightly trembling hands._

"_Very good," Harry said, taking it almost reverently. "You may leave."_

_He ran his fingers along the spine. This was quite possibly the oldest book he'd ever held and definitely the most valuable. It was covered in dark brown leather that crackled as he turned it in his hands. On the front was an image of a phoenix with two runes beneath it. He almost smiled, would have if he were still capable. "Wormtail. I have a job for you."_

Harry blinked awake. His rubbed at his aching scar and sat up. At least Voldemort hadn't tortured anyone, he always woke up vomiting after that. As visions went it wasn't that bad. At least he knew what Voldemort was so excited about earlier.

He hadn't been able to effect anything in the dream, hadn't even been able to try it. He'd been so deeply immersed in Voldemort's mind that he hadn't even been aware that it _was_ a dream. It was like they became one person and Voldemort was completely in control. Harry was just along for the ride.

But there had been that thought about the computer. Voldemort had been confused by it, but Harry had understood. Had he implanted a thought into Voldemort's mind? He'd have to ask Dumbledore at the next Occlumency lesson.

Dumbledore. The name reminded him that he really should let Dumbledore know about this even though he hadn't learned all that much. Hermione's words from earlier that evening came back to him. '_How would you feel if you didn't tell him straightaway and it makes things worse?'_ It may not seem important to him, but Dumbledore might see something he had missed. He sighed as he got out of bed. Merlin help him, but Hermione had gone and made him act responsibly. He didn't think he'd ever forgive her.

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	9. Enemy Camp

Chapter 9 – Enemy Camp

Despite the lateness of the hour Dumbledore was awake when Harry knocked on his door. He listened attentively as Harry described his dream in as much detail as he could. He didn't ask a single question until Harry was finished.

"Can you draw me the symbols on the front?"

Harry took the offered parchment and quill and paused. He closed his eyes and tried to bring the memory of the book cover to the forefront of his mind. Once he had drawn the Runes as well as he could he handed back the parchment. Dumbledore studied it carefully.

"I do not recognise these Runes," he said, standing and moving to his bookshelf. "You say there was a phoenix on the cover?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I don't understand that. Shouldn't it be a snake or something? I mean it's got to be a book of dark magic, right? And phoenixes are light creatures."

"The phoenix has long been a symbol of the light, true," Dumbledore agreed as he sat down with a large book in his hand. "Many cultures have also used them to represent eternity or immortality because when they die they are reborn from the ashes. I believe it is in that context that the phoenix was used on the cover of the book you saw."

"So you think Voldemort is looking for another way to become immortal?" Harry asked worriedly.

"He has a great fear of death," Dumbledore said as he leafed through the book. "Ah, here we are. It is not an identical match, but the Rune for immortality is very like the first symbol you drew here. Are you sure this is exactly what you saw?"

"Not completely," Harry admitted. "Lestrange did say they were really old and he didn't recognise them." An idea struck him then. "I could put the memory in the pensieve for you."

"An excellent idea," Dumbledore agreed and conjured a small vial for Harry to place the memory in. Harry concentrated on his dream, specifically the image of the book and removed the silvery stream of memory with his wand.

Harry frowned slightly. "You don't forget the memory when you place it in the pensieve," he said slowly. "So it's not the memory itself, but a copy or something."

"Well done," Dumbledore said sagely. "The pensieve is merely a way of viewing the memories again, from a different perspective. And now I think it is time for you to get back to bed." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a vial of blue potion. "Dreamless sleep."

Harry reached out and took it. "Thanks sir." As he left the room he could see Dumbledore still poring over the book. Somehow he doubted the Headmaster was going to get much sleep that night.

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That Saturday the Gryffindors held Quidditch tryouts. Fortunately the only ones that knew Harry was now Captain were Katie, Ron and Hermione and so everyone who turned up really was interested in being on the team. As Katie was the only Chaser left from last year Harry had to find two new ones as well as two Beaters.

Surprisingly Ginny Weasley turned up to try out for Chaser. Given the fact that she still hadn't spoken to Harry since the start of term Harry was reluctant to put her on the team, but once he saw her fly he knew he would have a hard job finding someone better so she got one of the free slots along with Demelza Robins. Ginny actually smiled at him when Harry announced the decision, giving him hope that they could work together after all. He chose Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes as Beaters. While they would never be as good as Fred and George he hoped they would learn to work well together.

During tryouts Ron and Hermione sat in the stands. At first Harry assumed they were watching closely – Ron at least needed to pay attention to the selection of his new team mates – but it quickly became obvious to him that he was more interested in watching Hermione studying, while she appeared to be struggling to keep her attention on her books. Harry hid a grin and turned back to the tryouts.

Once the team was selected they trudged back to the school for lunch. There was an expectant hush in the Great Hall and Harry paused, almost expecting everyone to turn and look at him as they usually did when something happened, but the attention of the students was on Dumbledore, who sat calmly at the Head table talking to Professor Flitwick.

"What's going on?" Ron asked Neville as they sat at the Gryffindor table.

"Dumbledore's making some kind of announcement after lunch," he told them. "No one knows what it's about."

Harry quickly piled food on his plate. He'd worked up quite an appetite during tryouts, especially as he'd been unable to eat breakfast due to nerves. Ron did the same even though he'd spent the whole time in the stands.

"I wonder what it's about," Hermione said as she grabbed a couple of sandwiches. "I hope nothing's happened."

"Can't be," said Harry. "He wouldn't hold us all in suspense like this if it was something bad."

A few minutes later Dumbledore stood up. The Hall was already so quiet that he started speaking right away.

"After long deliberations it has been decided that a life imprisoned in this castle is not what we want for the students of this school," he began. "Therefore Hogsmeade weekends will still occur for all students above third year." Nearly the whole school cheered at that. "To maximise your safety you will not be given notice of these excursions, nor will we allow you the whole day as we have in the past."

"At least we get to go," Ron said happily.

"As soon as you have finished eating, those of you who wish to visit Hogsmeade today can make your way to the Entrance Hall."

Harry joined the rest of the school in their applause. Many people stood right up and made their way outside, but Harry, Ron and Hermione finished their lunch before joining them.

"It's strange they're letting us go this early in the year," said Ron. "Normally we can't go until Halloween."

"That's probably why they're doing it," Harry pointed out. "They want it to be unexpected so the Death Eaters won't know to turn up." Hermione nodded her agreement.

"Good point," said Ron.

Harry was feeling a bit nervous as he neared the front of the queue of excitedly chattering students. He didn't know if he was allowed to leave the safety of the castle for something as unimportant as a Hogsmeade village, especially after the fuss there had been about his going to Diagon Alley. Filch was checking each student's name against his list before scanning them with secrecy detectors. Despite his fears Filch let him pass with nothing more than a glare.

He felt strangely free as he passed through the school gates with Ron and Hermione. He didn't know if anyone was following him, but he suspected it; there was no way Dumbledore would allow him to go outside of the school unescorted.

As they entered the village they passed Zonko's, which was boarded up. Harry felt his stomach clench at the sight, another store had gone out of business now the war was heating up. He only hoped Zonko hadn't been killed.

In the window there was a sign reading:

COMING SOON: WEASLEY'S WIZARDING WHEEZES

"What?" Ron said in disbelief. "They never said anything about opening a shop in Hogsmeade."

"That's because we only just bought it, little bro," Fred Weasley said, stepping around the corner. "Come on, you three. George is round back. We're tidying out the stock room."

"Why would we want to help with that?" Ron demanded. "We've only got this afternoon to visit the village."

Fred rolled his eyes. "If you help us we'll let you keep whatever you want."

"I'm in," said Ron.

Hermione was frowning. "I don't know. I really want to go to Dervish and Banges and I suspect you'll want to buy out Honeydukes, Ron."

"We can do that later," Ron argued, looking at her pleadingly. "We'll just help out for an hour or so."

"That's the spirit," Fred said and dragged Ron around the back. Harry and Hermione followed at a slower pace.

The stock room was a badly lit mess of boxes and discarded prank products. In the centre of all that stood George, beaming at them happily. Hermione picked up an object that looked something like an earring. "What's this do?"

Fred took it from her hand. "It clips on your ears and then stretches them out," he said, demonstrating. Sure enough his earlobe drooped, extending past his shoulder.

Hermione shuddered. "There are tribes in Africa where the women do that to themselves permanently. I think it's supposed to be a sign of fertility."

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione," George said. "How _do_ you know such things?"

"And why would you _want_ to?" Fred added.

"Let's get to work, boys and girl," said George before Hermione could answer.

Harry grabbed a bag and spent most of the next fifty minutes picking up things that looked broken or used while Fred, George and Ron lugged boxes outside to go through them in the light. Hermione had found a pile of paperwork on a desk and was flipping through it, placing anything she thought was important in a stack where Fred and George could go through it later and throwing the rest into a box to be destroyed.

Ron came in for another box. "How come you two get the easy jobs?"

"You're welcome to go through these sales figures if you want," Hermione said with a glare. "But I thought you wanted to go through the boxes for _loot_."

"Yeah... well," Ron spluttered. He piled three boxes one atop the other.

"I don't think you should try and lift that many," Hermione lectured. "And don't think you can use magic either, we're not in school right now."

"I can handle it," said Ron defensively. He bent and lifted the boxes.

"From the knees, Ron," Hermione said.

Ron straightened, the boxes in his arms. He grunted. "I've got it."

As he walked back towards the door he slipped on a loose prank, the boxes fell from his arms and he toppled backwards onto the hard floor with an inarticulate yell.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, jumping up and running to his side. Harry dropped his bag and hurried over.

"I'm OK," Ron insisted trying to sit up.

Hermione wrung her hands. "Maybe you should just lie still for a second," she suggested. She laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

Harry glanced between them. Hermione was gazing down worriedly at Ron, her hand still resting on his chest even though he was no longer trying to stand and Ron was staring up at her with a half smile. Hermione's gaze flicked to her hand and she blushed slightly. Ron's smile widened. It seemed they had both forgotten Harry was in the room.

"I'm going to... er," Harry said quietly, standing and striding towards the door. It may come to nothing, but there was no way he wanted to stay in the room if those two decided that today was the day they announced their feelings. If not that then they'd start a blazing row and he didn't particularly want to stick around for that either.

Fred and George glanced up as he walked out. "What's up?" George asked. "Thought I heard Ron screaming. Had to be him, I know you don't scream like a girl and Hermione's far too clever to be frightened of anything she might find in there."

Harry grinned at them. "Ron and Hermione are having a bit of a... moment, I suppose you could call it. I thought I'd give them some privacy."

"Do tell," Fred said eagerly.

"Why so you can tease him later?" said Harry, feeling somewhat amused.

"We'll do that anyway," Fred pointed out. "But we'd be glad of any details we can use as ammo."

Harry laughed. "I'll be keeping my mouth shut, thanks."

"Where's the fun in that?" Fred pouted.

"You may as well go," George said. "It's been nearly an hour. We'll send Ron and Hermione on when they've finished."

"Thanks," said Harry, suddenly eager to see Hogsmeade again. He took off down the main street, saying hello to some of the other students he passed. He considered stopping in Honeydukes, but decided he'd rather do that when Ron and Hermione were with him so he kept walking until he reached the far end of the village.

He stopped outside the Three Broomsticks. This would be a good place to meet his friends whenever they managed to tear themselves away from the loving gazes they'd been exchanging. He grinned to himself, remembering the way they had been staring at each other. Even if it didn't happen today, it wouldn't be long now.

He really was happy for them, he realised. He'd thought he would be jealous, but for some reason it seemed so right that the two of them be together even if it meant that they didn't have as much time for him as they used to.

A movement caught his eye and he glanced up to where the road ended with a style. From there a path led up into the hills and a number of caves, one of which Sirius had used to hide in during the Triwizard tournament.

His feet moved unbidden, carrying him towards the style. He barely paused, just hopped up and over it, then started striding up the path. He just wanted to see it, just for a minute. He knew whoever was watching him wouldn't be too happy, he only hoped they wouldn't stop him.

As he reached the hills the path disappeared and Harry had trouble remembering the way Sirius had led them almost two years before. He stuck his head into several of the caves, each time disappointed.

He was about to give up when he heard a sound behind him. He spun, wand in hand to face the cave he thought it had come from. An irrational hope sprung up in his chest. "Sirius?" he whispered.

He took a step closer, then another, barely paying any attention to anything but the entrance to the cave.

A hand enclosed his wrist in a crushing grip.

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Hermione muttered to herself as she scanned yet another page of figures written in a somewhat shaky hand. Why did she agree to this again? Oh, yes, because Ron wanted her to, that's why. And whenever he looked at her with that pathetic look somewhere between a pout and a grin she couldn't refuse.

Harry had been dragged into it too, although he'd probably enjoy the prank bounty they'd been promised almost as much as Ron would.

As if her wandering thoughts had summoned him Ron stomped in. "How come you two get the easy jobs?" he whined.

Easy? He thought it was easy to read this chicken scratch and try to decipher what was worth keeping and what was rubbish? "You're welcome to go through these sales figures if you want, but I thought you wanted to go through the boxes for _loot_."

It apeared he didn't have an answer for that. "Yeah... well."

Hermione tried not to watch him, but not watching Ron was as easy for her as not answering questions in class: nearly impossible. He stacked three boxes haphazardly and bent to pick them up.

"I don't think you should try and lift that many," said Hermione reasonably. "And don't think you can use magic either, we're not in school right now." The last thing they needed was to get dragged back up to school because Ron couldn't control himself. They hadn't even been to Dervish and Banges yet.

Naturally Ron couldn't just accept her advice and responded defensively. "I can handle it."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he completely ignored her and leaned forward, grasping the bottom box. "From the knees, Ron."

He grunted as he lifted them, the muscles in his arms and neck straining. "I've got it." He carried them off, his posture rigid as if to prove he could manage.

She only saw the dung bomb an instant before Ron stepped on it. There wasn't even time to yell a warning and he was down, lying on his back and groaning pitifully. And then she was at his side, his name ripping out of her throat and even in her worry all she could think was that he wouldn't _listen _to her even when she was so obviously right.

Ron, stubborn idiot that he was, tried to sit up. "I'm OK."

"Maybe you should just lie still for a second," she said, pushing on his chest until he lay back down. What if he had a concussion? Or a back injury? He wasn't supposed to move was he? Oh why hadn't she learned more healing spells?

Ron was smiling at her and suddenly it was hard to think straight. She wanted to conjure a stretcher and take him back to the school where Madam Pomfrey could check him over, but for the life of her she couldn't remember the spell. She needed her wand for a start... but then she'd be in trouble for using magic outside of school. A small rebellious voice whispered that no one actually checked on the use of magic in Hogsmeade – she herself had used it in full view of the teachers in the Three Broomsticks sometime in third year and not gotten into trouble – but that wasn't the point. It wasn't _allowed_ unless it was an emergency.

Well this was an emergency wasn't it? Ron could be paralysed if she didn't act soon. Oh God her hand was on his chest and he was still smiling at her. What had she been worrying about?

After a few more long moments in which Hermione's brain became progressively more fuzzy, Ron reached up and grasped the hand still holding him down. "I'm alright now. I think I can sit up."

"Right. Yes," Hermione agreed, backing off slightly.

Ron pushed himself up and now their faces were so close to one another's and she was sure he would try to kiss her. Did she want him to kiss her? Why did she have to think so much, especially when all she was capable of right now was a garbled mess of random musings and oh she really _did _want him to kiss her. _Why wasn't he kissing her_?

She decided to take the initiative and inched closer. She was a modern woman wasn't she? Who was to say _she_ couldn't kiss _him_? Wizards might be incredibly old fashioned but that didn't mean she had to be.

He wasn't backing away and she took that as encouragement to lean in and let her eyes flutter closed. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek and lips and she knew any second she really would be kissing Ron Weasley...

"Harry!" she squeaked, her eyes opening and darting around the stock room. He'd been here a moment ago hadn't he? When had he left? She didn't think she'd survive if he'd seen her and Ron almost... But no, he was gone, probably outside with the twins.

She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Ron who was giving her a hurt look. She suddenly realised what he must be thinking, but couldn't think for the life of her how to make it better. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just... I thought he was... And I didn't want to... but I did, just not if he was watching." She could have shuddered at the distorted version of a sentence that dribbled from her mouth. She was normally _so_ articulate. It was Ron's fault, he always turned her brain to mush.

Ron seemed to understand, at least he no longer looked like someone had kicked his puppy so she stood and helped him up. "We should..." she trailed off, gesturing to the door.

Ron nodded and led her outside where Fred and George were chatting amiably.

Hermione schooled her features into a semblence of calm. "Where's Harry?"

They were leering at them as if they knew all about the little moment she had just shared with Ron. She wouldn't put it past them to spy on their little brother at the worst possible moment. She'd kill Harry if he'd said anything to them.

"He went down into the village," George said, grinning at her in a way that made her absolutely positive she was right and they did know. "We said we'd send you two after him when you... finished."

Hermione was sure she was blushing a bright red by now, but she was determined not to lose her cool. "We'll be off then."

As she and Ron headed down the path, Ron carrying a large bag of pranks that he'd taken from the twins, they could hear feet running after them. Hermione almost sighed, thinking it was the twins coming to make more suggestive comments.

There was no one there. It was only years of association with Harry that made her realise they were being followed by someone in an invisibility cloak. The air shimmered lightly and Tonks' face peered through the parted folds of her cloak. "Where's Harry?" she asked quietly.

"Hogsmeade," Ron said.

Tonks' face paled. "Oh no. I lost him. I was only gone for a second, I swear. Dumbledore's gonna kill me."

"It's alright," Hermione said soothingly. "We'll help you find him. He only left a few minutes ago, he can't have gotten that far. He's probably just in Honeydukes."

"Yeah, you're right," Tonks said, forcing herself to calm down. "Go get the twins, they can help. I'll meet you at the Shrieking Shack in ten minutes. If you find him bring him there."

Hermione nodded as the cloak closed over Tonks' face and her footsteps hurried down the road. She really should use a silencing charm.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said. "The quicker we get the twins the quicker we can find Harry. Knowing him he's already gotten himself in trouble."

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The hand tightened even more and Harry was forced to drop his wand. The hand instantly let go and Harry lunged for his wand, but he was caught by an arm around his chest. He struggled helplessly ignoring the throbbing pain from his wrist.

"Let me go," he cried out, but his attacker was incredibly strong. He kicked backward with all the strength he could muster and was rewarded with a harsh grunt and the arms about him loosening.

He scrambled away and back to his wand, but someone else reached it before he did. Harry gasped in surprise. The man who now held his wand was wearing a kind of costume he had seen only twice before, once at the Burrow and again at the train station. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that the one he had kicked was dressed similarly.

He flung himself at the second man. If he could just knock him off balance he could grab his wand and make a run for it, but the man merely batted him away as if he weighed nothing at all and he rolled a few feet down the hill. Before he could stand one of his attackers grabbed him again.

"Bring him," said the one with his wand.

He was forced to walk forward into the cave where he was pushed to the back and released. It would do him no good though; there were at least a dozen men now standing between him and the exit and he was unarmed.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he looked at them. They couldn't be human. Humans weren't that... _beautiful_. And no human he'd ever met could move like they did, so graceful, like cats. They all wore their hair long, down to their shoulders and loose, framing angular faces with skin so pale they almost seemed like ghosts except for their eyes which were so bright they seemed to stand right out from their faces. He couldn't believe how delicate they all looked, like they'd break at the lightest touch. The throbbing of his wrist reminded him that wasn't the case.

"We spend so much time trying to find him and he comes to us," one of them laughed. He had a heavy accent Harry didn't recognise. It was almost pretty, like he was singing the words, not saying them.

"What do you want?" he demanded, quelling the panic rising in his chest. He squashed it down. Now was not the time for panic. He'd been in worse situations.

"Relax, Harry Potter," another man said softly. He too spoke in that musical accent. "We have no wish to hurt you."

Harry scoffed. "No, you'll just hand me over to Voldemort and let him do it for you."

"We do not work for Voldemort," the man said calmly. Harry stared at him in surprise; very few people had the courage to say Voldemort's name on either side.

"Then who do you work for?" he said.

"All in good time," the man said, still in his calm tone. "I apologise for the rough treatment you have received thus far, it was never our intention to hurt you. If you will agree to sit with me and allow me to talk to you for a short time then I will return your wand to you and heal your wrist. I promise we mean no harm."

Since he had no other choice Harry nodded. The man in front of him handed over his wand and Harry took it gratefully. He didn't put it away because no matter what this man said he wasn't about to trust him. Another man came over and took Harry's wrist gently in one hand. He took a wand from his boot and gently passed it over the bruising flesh. Warmth immediately spread up his arm and he could feel the pain ebb away. "Thanks," Harry muttered, flexing his wrist slightly.

The man who had spoken sat on the floor in a move so elegant Harry knew he could never match it. Harry perched on a rock opposite him where he could still see the entrance and the other men who were now moving away but not leaving the cave, giving them a semblance of privacy.

He eyed the other man warily. He was perhaps in his forties, with eyes an amazing shade of greenish blue.

"You must forgive me," the man said. "I had expected to have more time to prepare for this meeting. My daughter told me that you usually come to Hogsmeade at Halloween."

"That's why we didn't this time," said Harry. "Because it was too predictable."

"Very sensible," the man agreed. "Now, 'first things first' I believe is what you say. My name is Malachai. Of course, I already know _your_ name."

Harry shrugged. Most people did. His eyes flickered to the entrance. They were being watched closely even if the others couldn't hear what they were saying. He was never going to be able to escape, even with his wand. At least they seemed to be keeping their promise not to hurt him.

The man – or creature called Malachai – was gazing at him steadily. "You are exactly as I expected you to be. I had heard descriptions, but still... I would know who you were if I had never even heard your name. All I would have to do is look in your eyes to see your mother reflected in them."

Harry gaped. So many questions came to mind just from that one speech and he had so many already. "You knew my mum? How?" How could someone like Malachai ever know his mum, a normal muggle-born witch?

"Not well. We walked in different circles, but I saw her many times when she was a young girl. It has been many years since I saw her last. I was very saddened to hear she had been killed. As were we all."

Harry looked away. If only he could trust this man he might learn so much about his mother. Sirius had been a great source of information about James Potter, but he hadn't known Lily very well before she had married James.

"How did you know her?" He appraised Malachai. He looked to be the same age as Harry's parents would be. "Did you go to school with them?"

"I did not," said Malachai. " I never attended Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. That meant he wasn't a wizard, but that led to the question: what was he? He had to be magical, whatever he was. "Just tell me," he said tiredly. He hated how everyone felt the need to speak in riddles around him. Just once he wanted straight answers. "Who are you? You're not human."

Malachai brushed the hair back behind his ears and Harry's jaw dropped open in surprise.

"No, Harry. I am an elf."

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	10. Elf

Chapter 10 – Elf

Harry couldn't stop staring at Malachai's pointed ears. "But I thought all the elves had died out. All that's left is the house-elves. Right?"

"We didn't die, Harry," Malachai said. "We merely went somewhere else: to a realm where we would no longer suffer the prejudices of humans."

"When was that?" Harry asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Almost a thousand years ago," Malachai told him. "The humans have almost forgotten us in that time and we have encouraged them to forget. We had hoped that all ties between our worlds could be severed when we left, but it soon became clear that we still needed the humans."

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand."

"We do not have much time so I will attempt to be as succinct as possible. Long ago, before humans began to segregate themselves from us, there were many occasions of inter-marriage between the two species. Those marriages resulted in children who were able to use both human and elf magic. When we left this world those children were given the choice to come with us or to remain here, but those that left with us were faced with a difficulty. Although they had the ability to perform human magic there was no one to teach them.

"At the time a new school had just been built: Hogwarts. Before that magic was taught by an apprentice system which we could never have infiltrated, but with the school in place it was now possible for elf families to move back to the human realm for the duration of their child's education. As long as they did not reveal themselves they were perfectly safe.

"As generations passed the human blood amongst us has become weaker, where once dozens of our children attended Hogwarts and the other magical schools, there are only two now."

Harry remembered something. "Your daughter? But wouldn't that mean you..."

"She gets her ability in human magic from her mother, my life mate."

Harry racked his brain trying to think if any of the girls he knew were particularly elf like, but no one came to mind. "Who is she?"

"She made me promise not to tell you," Malachai said. "She wants to approach you on her own terms. Rest assured you will know her soon."

Harry nodded. "What about the kids that stayed here?" he asked. "What happened to them?"

"The elf blood is even weaker in humans. The only vestiges remain with those that call themselves purebloods. Ironic really, as their blood is less pure than a muggles."

Harry almost smirked. He wondered how Malfoy would react to hearing that. A thought struck him. "Do they know? Is that why they're so obsessed with blood purity?"

"It is doubtful they know the reason any more," said Malachai, "although I suspect it was one of the driving forces behind the obsession." He smiled. "You may find it amusing to know that Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of the blood purity issue was indeed a pure blood human, but it was those with elf blood he wanted to keep out of the school, not the muggle borns."

Malachai spoke of ancient history as though it were a recent thing and Harry wondered if the legends about an elf's lifespan were accurate. Just how old was Malachai? He realised something. "Then this whole war with Voldemort is based on a lie," Harry gasped. "He wants to kill all the muggles and muggle borns because he believes that pure bloods are better, but really they're part elf!"

"Well, not all of them," Malachai corrected. "As I said, the blood is very diluted now. I am aware of only a few wizards and witches who show any evidence of having elf blood and those numbers are growing smaller. The power can show itself in multiple ways, for example, the ability to change one's appearance is an elf trait. Humans call it metamorphing."

"Tonks," Harry said in amazement. It fit; she was from an old pure blood family even if her father was muggle born.

"Unfortunately we do not have the time I would have liked to discuss this before you must return," Malachai said. "So I will move this conversation along to the reason why I so urgently needed to speak with you."

Harry straightened. He'd been wondering about that himself.

"You will recall that I said I knew a little of your mother," Malachai said, his tone gentle now.

"Yeah," said Harry. "How is that possible? My mum was muggle born, not a pureblood so she couldn't possibly have had any elf blood."

"I am very sorry that it is I that must tell you this and not your mother as she intended," Malachai said. "She was not born to the Evans family as you have been told, but adopted by them when she was eleven years old and of age to attend Hogwarts."

"What are you saying?" Harry said weakly.

"She was born an elf," Malachai said, "with enough human blood that she was forced to leave the safety of the elven realm to come to the human world. Her own parents were unable to accompany her so a muggle family was convinced to adopt her. She grew older and then she fell in love. Her parents were not happy with her decision to remain here, but they did not prevent it. She married your human father and they had you."

"No, no, no, no no," Harry said desperately. It couldn't be true. Everything he ever believed couldn't be wrong.

"You yourself are more human than elf, but your elf side will come out and that is why we had to meet, so that you would not be completely surprised when it happened."

"You're lying," Harry whispered. His mind caught onto something and he could have laughed with relief. "My ears aren't pointed. You're wrong."

"Harry," Malachai said gently. "Please believe me. Outwardly all children of mixed blood are much as human children until their seventeenth birthday, when their elven side awakens and they come into their magic fully. It is one of the few things your society remembers of the days when elves walked among them, even though none of the humans have had enough elf magic to change in centuries. Do your people not also consider adulthood to arrive on your seventeenth birthday? "

"We do," Harry said hopelessly. He couldn't possibly believe it, he wouldn't. Malachai had offered no proof and until he did Harry refused to accept any of it. With that in mind Harry straightened. He'd listen and once Malachai was done he'd walk away and never think about any of this again.

"Then when you turn seventeen you will see that I tell the truth," said Malachai. "In a little over nine months the truth will be revealed. I am so sorry that we couldn't tell you sooner. You are so well protected everywhere you go. We were forced to attack your friends house out of desperation. The closer your birthday got the more worried we were becoming. Now at last we can relax for you know the truth."

"Yeah." Harry was feeling pretty desperate to get out of here now, almost desperate enough to try and fight his way out, but Malachai had promised he'd be allowed to leave once he'd heard him out. "I'd better get going," he said, trying to sound natural. "My friends will probably be looking for me."

"Yes, yes," said Malachai at once. "I beg that you keep this from them if at all possible. As I have told you, humans do not treat us well, for all that they consider us to be light by their code of right and wrong. It would not do for you to be ill treated because of this. I would also protect my daughter from human cruelty for as long as I can."

Harry had already decided that he wouldn't be telling anyone about this insane conversation, but he had to ask, "Why do you care so much about _me_? Surely there are other people born in this realm who are... part elf, or whatever. Do you do the same for them?" Malachai and the others had gone to an inordinate amount of effort to tell him this and he certainly seemed to believe it was true. Surely this many elves wouldn't go to this amount of trouble just to tell him that his ears might grow points.

Malachai sighed. "I had hoped that I need not tell you any more than that for today, but it seems I must. No, Harry, we do not."

"I knew it," Harry said almost gleefully, standing suddenly. "This is all some kind of trick." They were setting him up for something.

Malachai held up his hands in a calming gesture. "I assure you that everything I have told you is the truth. We do not do this for other children because if they are elf enough to change then they usually have some family who can inform them of their heritage and they are not protected as you are. I admit that you are something of a special case... because of your family."

"My family?" Harry repeated slowly. "The Dursleys?"

"They are not truly your family. No, I am speaking of your mother's real family. She was no ordinary young elf. She was the daughter of our King."

Harry burst out laughing "Right. Sure. She was a princess. I have absolutely no problem believing that."

"She was indeed." Malachai didn't seem to notice the very obvious sarcasm. "And that makes you a prince of our realm. Not the crown prince, of course, your mother had two older brothers and they in turn have children of their own, all of which come before you in the line of succession, but you are still a prince and the King and Queen have great interest in your welfare."

For a moment Harry almost wanted to believe him. Having family; grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins, who really cared about him would be worth all the rest of the baggage Malachai was dumping on him, but then reality returned and Harry couldn't help another laugh at just how ridiculous this all was.

"I really need to go now," he said finally. "Like you said, I'm well protected. If I'm gone too long it will be more than my friends looking for me."

Malachai seemed a bit sad that Harry was brushing it all off so easily, but he nodded. "Of course. My people will watch you until you reach the village, just to ensure your safety."

Harry almost rolled his eyes. It seemed every group he came across either wanted to protect him or kill him. One day he'd meet a nice group of people who were merely indifferent to him. That would at least be original.

He walked out of the cave unchallenged. As he ran back towards town he looked back frequently to make sure he wasn't being followed. It was as he reached the style and clambered over it that he realised he really wasn't. By anyone. Where had his guard been during all this?

Ron and Hermione would be worrying about him by now if they'd managed to tear themselves apart yet. He glanced at his watch. It seemed almost impossible to believe that scene at Fred and George's new shop had only happened an hour ago.

He jogged up the road to the Three Broomsticks. Where would they be? Hopefully he'd find them in Honeydukes or Dervish and Banges, happily shopping and not even missing him. Just this once he hoped he was right.

"Harry!"

He squinted up the road. Apparently he _had_ been missed enough that Hermione had sent Fred and George after him. Now he had to prepare himself for the slew of questions they were sure to bombard him with. Best stick as near to the truth as he could. There was no way he was telling them he was practically kidnapped by crazy elves who thought that his mum was their princess and he was a prince. They'd think _he_ was crazy. It sounded insane to him and he'd just lived through it.

"Harry, thank Merlin. Stay here with Fred. I'll go find the others."

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen either twin that serious before. It was a bit unnerving. He glanced at Fred as George ran off, hoping to appear innocent.

"Hermione's going off her rocker," Fred said lightly. He seemed to be taking this a lot more cheerfully than his twin. "Tonks wasn't much better."

"Tonks?" said Harry in surprise. What did Tonks have to do with any of this?

"Yeah, she was your guard, mate," Fred said with a snort. "Decided to slip off to the loo seconds before you left our place. No surprise really: Tonks has always had comically bad timing."

"Good thing you and George don't suffer that affliction," Harry said with a grin. So he really had been alone up there. Naturally the one time he'd managed to go somewhere without a babysitter he had managed to walk right into a trap. Well he certainly wasn't telling them now. He'd never be able to go anywhere by himself again. He almost shuddered at the thought of having an Order member trail him around at Hogwarts.

Fred was laughing. "We're the comedy kings," he agreed.

"Well your Majesty, maybe we could step into this fine establishment where I'll treat us to some refreshment."

"Better not," Fred sighed. "George is worried that the you-know-what's don't take us seriously because we're always goofing off. He thinks we should act more responsibly if we want them to treat us as full members. And right now that means standing here with you until your guard catches up to us."

"You don't agree?" Harry asked in astonishment. In all the time he'd known the twins he didn't think he'd ever seen them disagree on anything.

Fred shrugged. "I say if they can't take us as we are then they can take a hike. We only wanted to join so we could fight. I figure we can just stick close to you and wait until you get into some awful trouble and make ourselves useful that way. We don't need them."

"Yeah, but you'd get bored following me around all that time," said Harry offhandedly. He definitely didn't want to encourage that idea.

Fred let out a chuckle. "I reckon it's about the most interesting place to be, these days. You get into the most amazing adventures without even trying. We used to have to put a lot of thought and effort into ours and they weren't nearly so much fun." He winked slyly. "And we didn't get anywhere near as much attention for them afterwards either."

Harry glared. "That happens about once a year and it's not as if I go looking for trouble."

"Nope, you're Harry Potter," said Fred. "Trouble – and lovely witches – seek you out." He sobered slightly. "I heard about what happened between you and Ginny and while I'm disappointed for her I can't say I blame you either."

Harry reddened. "Ron told you?" He was suddenly painfuly aware of the other students and villagers wandering about nearby. Harry Potter and a Weasley twin talking in the middle of Hogsmeade was interesting enough that they were drawing quite a few stares.

"And Ginny," Fred replied. "She tells us everything. The night before you came back to school she came running into our room crying her eyes out over you."

"And you didn't want to beat me up for it?" Harry asked incredulously. If his experience with Ron was anything to go by big brothers always defended their sister when she was upset.

"Nah," said Fred, ruffling Harry's hair. "Couldn't hurt our favourite investor and honorary brother. Besides Ginny understood even if she didn't take it all that well. Thanks for being honest with her."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He'd never even thought of doing anything else. "That's alright." Over Fred's shoulder he could see George returning with Ron and Hermione in tow. No sign of Tonks though.

"Harry!" Hermione flung herself into his arms. "How could you just wander off like that? You could have been kidnapped! Where did you go? We've been looking all over town for you, but couldn't find you. Are you alright?"

Harry almost laughed as she paused for breath. "I'm fine Hermione. I just went for a walk. I had no idea I was alone until Fred told me what happened." He felt a hand pat his shoulder and glanced back. There was no one there so he assumed it was Tonks under an invisibility cloak.

"But where did you go?" Hermione demanded.

"I..." Harry hesitated. It was better than the truth but he thought it sounded a bit wimpy now he came to say it. "I went up to the cave Sirius hid out in," he said quietly. He didn't tell them he never found it or what he found instead. Hermione's expression turned sympathetic and Ron patted his shoulder.

"It's alright, mate. We get it," Ron said simply.

"I guess I just assumed there would be someone with me," Harry shrugged. "Didn't even think about it, just figured if it was too dangerous whoever was trailing me would stop me." He glanced back at where he knew Tonks to be. "I'm fine though. Nothing happened." He hoped he sounded sincere on that last part. He didn't want them to try and force the truth out of him, and he didn't want Tonks to get in trouble.

Thankfully they all seemed to believe him as no one asked any further questions. Mindful that they were having this conversation in the middle of the street where anyone could come across them Harry gestured towards the Three Broomsticks. "No use standing out here all day. Let's go get a butterbeer."

"No," Hermione disagreed. "We should get back to school."

"Why?" Harry argued. ""I keep telling you nothing happened. So why can't we enjoy the rest of our afternoon?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I want a butterbeer."

"What's the harm?" George said with a nod. "Dumbledore need never know."

Harry felt a light tug on his arm in the direction of the pub and knew Tonks was giving her permission. Without waiting for a response from Hermione he turned and pushed through the doors. His friends followed although Hermione was frowning disapprovingly.

"You guys take a seat," Harry suggested. "My treat for making you all worry." He strode up to the bar. "Six butterbeers please."

Fortunately Madame Rosmerta hadn't counted their group so she just pulled out six bottles and placed them on the counter. Harry handed over some galleons.

He reached the table to see Fred using his wand to spin one of the placemats. Ron and Hermione were talking between themselves and George was grinning at them. Harry placed the butterbeers down and went to sit in one of the spare seats, but George shook his head. "I wouldn't Harry. We hexed that chair."

"Ah," Harry said in understanding and he shifted one of the bottles directly in front of the seat before moving to the other chair. By the time he sat down the bottle had disappeared. He hadn't even seen it happen and he'd been looking for it. Apparently Tonks was better at remaining undetected than she was at walking in a straight line.

It was interesting, having drinks with the twins. Many students, remembering their famous escape of the previous year came to congratulate them on their business and Tonks was forced to stand or risk someone sitting on her. There were also a couple of adults who came over to complain about one of their products. Fred and George took it all in stride and Harry took mental notes. He could use help dealing with the public.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Harry, it's been almost three months. I think you should talk about it," Hermione said later when they reached their usual studying spot in the Room of Requirement.

"Huh?" Harry said in surprise. He'd been deep in thought all the way through dinner and knew she'd noticed, but thought she couldn't possibly know the reason. What did she want him to talk about?

Hermione's tone was gentle as she reached over and took his hand. "You've been a bit withdrawn ever since we found you. It's not hard to guess why."

Since he had been thinking over his conversation with Malachai he hoped it was harder than she thought. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sirius," said Hermione and Harry tensed despite himself. "I know you're taking it hard, but you can't just bottle it all up. Sooner or later you'll explode."

For some reason a vivid image of aunt Marge when he blew her up flashed in front of his eyes. He'd bottled up his emotions then – not that he'd much choice – and there had certainly been an explosion. He knew Hermione was right, but he couldn't face talking about it, not now, maybe not ever.

"I just want to help you," Hermione went on. "If you don't feel you can talk to me, maye you should go to Professor McGonagall or maybe Remus. I'm sure even Ron would listen if you wanted to talk."

Ron, who had been pointedly avoiding the conversation looked up in alarm. "Me?" He almost sounded frightened. Harry smirked. He could just imagine that conversation.

Hermione looked between the two. "You're right, it would be like the blind leading the blind. Well, Neville then. Of everyone in our year he's probably the one most likely to know how you feel."

Harry had to concede that point to her. In some ways Neville was as much an orphan as Harry was. His parents might still be alive, but they weren't really his parents anymore. It must be an awful kind of torture to visit them as they now were, whilst longing for the parents you'd never known. At least Lily and James Potter were at peace.

But if he were going to talk to anyone he knew it would be Hermione. She was his best friend for a reason and although she pushed him to snapping at times he knew he'd never feel as comfortable talking about this with anyone as he did with her.

He sighed deeply. "I don't know what you want me to say," he said quietly. "I don't even know why I wanted to visit that cave today. I just felt I needed to."

"I understand," she replied, shifting closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Harry cast a guilty glance at Ron. After what happened in the twins' shop he was sure Ron would be jealous, but he seemed calm. He was deliberately paging through a book yet Harry knew he was still listening.

"It's only natural that you miss him," Hermione went on. "He was your godfather and anyone could see you loved him."

Harry shifted slightly, feeling glad he couldn't see her face or the pity he knew would be in her eyes. "Sometimes I think I hate him for leaving me," he whispered. "But then I just really wish he were still here and I feel guilty for blaming him." He drew in a deep breath, expecting her to tell him how stupid that was.

Instead she clutched his hand tighter. "From what I've read that's a perfectly normal response. He hurt you with his death even if if he didn't mean to, but it wasn't his fault."

"I know that," Harry said.

"It wasn't yours either," Hermione continued. "You did everything you could to prevent it. No one blames you and Sirius certainly wouldn't. You need to let go of the guilt."

"Don't tell me to let it go, Hermione," Harry said, suddenly feeling angry. He pushed away from her and stood, pacing towards the fire. "You've never lost anyone before, you don't know how it feels. You can't understand just because you've read about it in some book." He was afraid to turn around and look at her. He didn't want to see if she was upset, or worse, looking at him with that understanding gaze that made him want to break down.

"I-I may not have lost anyone," Hermione said falteringly, "but I can still empathise with you."

"No," Harry almost snarled as he spun about. "Because you – both of you – have these picture perfect families. You have both a mum and a dad and Ron you have five brothers and a sister, but me? I have the Dursleys and lets be honest they're hardly the ideal family. They've never been _any _kind of family to me." He paused, his own breathing sounding harsh to his ears. "But then I found Sirius and finally I thought there was someone who would be _my_ family, but then I screwed that up too."

Hermione gasped. "You can't possibly think you were responsible for your parents dying," she said, horrified.

Harry froze, replaying his last words over. He was coming dangerously close to the prophecy and he still wasn't prepared to tell them about that, both for his own sanity and their safety. "I-well..."

"Harry you were a baby," said Hermione. "There was no way you were responsible for that. It was Voldemort's fault – and Pettigrew's – but not yours."

"How can you... you don't..." There was no way he could say the words on his mind without revealing the prophecy. She couldn't understand. There was no way he could _make_ her understand. His parents _had_ died because of him, because Voldemort had heard the prophecy and been terrified to hear about his own possible demise and had lashed out at the one destined to cause it. Harry may not have been the one holding the wand, but he killed them all the same.

He had to get out. He couldn't stand the look on Hermione's face a moment longer; that look of sadness mingled with pity. He couldn't even look at Ron for fear that he too was feeling sorry for him. He almost ran for the door ignoring their cries for him to come back.

He had no idea where he was going. He just ran and kept running until he was almost dropping from exhaustion. He practically fell against a tree and slid down it to sit staring out across the lake. He didn't even remember coming outside.

Why did she always make him_ talk_ about things? And why did he always let her? It was just too painful and when he got upset he had less control over what he said which led to awkward slips and Hermione was just too darn clever to miss them and too stubborn to let them go.

On top of everything else today it was just too much and he'd had enough. He wanted to sleep, maybe for the next week, without awful nightmares or visions of death and destruction. But that was impossible. Only normal people got peaceful nights, he had Voldemort to deal with.

And now crazy elves had been added to the mix. His anger flared once again as he remembered what Malachai had said about his mother. How dare he use her as a way to get to him? Did he think Harry would just accept whatever they said if he pretended to be a friend of Lily Potter's? Well he wasn't going to fall for it. Even if it meant he was still related to Petunia Dursley.

But what if it was true? What if he really did have uncles and cousins and _grandparents_ in the elf realm? Wasn't it at least possible?

He snorted and shook those thoughts away. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. He must simply keep in mind that it was a ridiculous load of dung they'd tried to feed him and was probably the bait to some kind of trap, no matter how alluring some parts of it might be. Did they think he was an idiot? No one would believe it if a stranger told them they were some kind of half human, half elf freak. And if that wasn't enough Malachai had tried to tell him his mother was a princess. Harry laughed humourlessly. He was _not_ some half elf prince.

The moment those words crossed his mind he froze. No! It couldn't be could it? The prophecy couldn't mean him. It was a coincidence nothing more. He was not the Half Blood Prince, he was Harry, just Harry. And the Half Blood Prince wasn't going to appear for about ten months.

Although Malachai had said something about his elf side coming out in _nine_ months. That was pretty close. Harry closed his eyes and tried to work out the numbers. His birthday – the day he'd supposedly grow pointy ears – was at the end of July. It was now mid October which meant there were nine and a half months until then. The Half Blood Prince was supposed to appear one year from the day the prophecy was given. Dumbledore had told him about it on the first of September and said it was about a month old. He had assumed that meant sometime in August, but what if it was given on his birthday?

No! He wasn't going to walk down that path. Dumbledore would have told him if it was given on his birthday. He wouldn't allow any doubts to creep into his mind. Malachai was either lying or mistaken. Either way he wouldn't waste any more time thinking about it.

That resolution made he knew he needed to get back to the common room before curfew. He should apologise to Hermione too. There had been no need for him to yell at her like that. With a heavy sigh he rose and made his way back to the castle.


	11. Letters and Conversations

Chapter 11 – Letters and Conversations

Harry tried to forget the meeting with Malachai over the next few weeks by throwing himself into his school work and Quidditch.

The team was really starting to take shape. While Ritchie and Jimmy would never be as strong a team as Fred and George they were beginning to get a sense of how to work together. The three Chasers were quickly learning the plays under Katie's guidance and Ron was doing well unless he felt under pressure. Once more Harry thought Ron might make a better Chaser, but it was too late now to move the team around and Ron really was a very good Keeper when not provoked or distracted.

The times Harry spent in the air had become his saving grace. Only then, with the wind rushing about him and the thrill of flight could he truly forget everything else that was taking up space in his mind. When he flew he was just a normal teenager playing Quidditch.

On the ground things weren't going nearly as smoothly. Every day the paper had more stories of Death Eater attacks interspersed with little comments about what Harry was doing. The insinuation that he was wasting his time at Hogwarts when he should be out there saving everyone ate at him constantly. Hermione kept telling him it wasn't his responsibility, but Harry couldn't let it go. Because it_ was_ his responsibility, no matter how much he might wish otherwise.

Classes were proceeding much as they had in September. Harry and Hermione were still the only ones making any progress on silent magic, much to Ron's agitation. They'd both tried helping him with it with no success. Potions was as much a nightmare as it ever was. Snape seemed to revel in taking points from Harry and pointing out to the class just how inept he was at the subject. Harry held down his anger as much as possible, but there were still a couple of instances where he found his hands shaking in suppressed rage. It was at these times he most missed having Hermione as a partner, with her quiet voice telling him to be calm.

Occlumency lessons were going well. Now he had the fundamentals of Tai Chi down Dumbledore was helping him to use it to build a shield in his mind. He hadn't managed to keep Dumbledore out yet, but the Headmaster seemed pleased with him all the same.

But outside classes, when he had no homework and no Quidditch to keep him occupied, that was when his mind wandered back to the Hogsmeade visit.

He had ventured to the library, making sure to only go early in the morning on weekends so he wouldn't have to put up with the giggling, hoping to find any books on elves. Unfortunately the library was either lacking on the subject or he just didn't have the research skills needed to find it. So he did what he always did when he needed information he couldn't find himself: he went to Hermione.

He had to be careful not to reveal the reasons for his request so he phrased it as though it were homework. He expected her to find him a couple of books and that would be it, but it seemed she had looked into the subject extensively when she first founded S.P.E.W.

"House elves are all that remain of forest elves, you know," she told him.

"Yeah, I remembered that," Harry said quickly. "I wondered about the forest elves though."

"Right." Hermione paused to collect her thoughts before launching into a lecture. "Well I could never find any record of exactly when elves first arrived here, but I know they disappeared shortly after Hogwarts was built. They were extremely magical beings, fully sentient of course and very intelligent. They didn't use wands to perform magic." She frowned. "I never understood what it meant, but the books say they utilised natural magic. It's not one of the categories we use and I've never been able to find out what it is. I assume it has something to do with how they were attuned to nature."

"Did they leave, or did they just die out?" Harry asked curiously. He was wondering how much her story would match what Malachai had told him. He was sure Malachai really was an elf and that there had been elements of truth in the story he had been told, he just wasn't sure how much. Come to think of it he couldn't really be sure the wizarding version would be any more reliable. From what he'd seen wizards had a habit of hiding anything that didn't show them in the best possible light.

Hermione made a disapproving noise. "All the books make a big deal about how the elves were arrogant and made no effort to integrate themselves with humans, until one day they just vanished. The impression is that they just died out but that doesn't explain how they all disappeared pretty much on the same day. Reading between the lines I'd say they just had enough of human prejudice. Wizards don't have a good history when it comes to accepting other species," she said angrily. "And it's only gotten worse since then. What subject did you say this was for?"

"Defence," Harry said. "You know that essay Jones set on other magical creatures."

"And you picked elves?" said Hermione with some surprise. "I'm impressed, Harry, that's a really difficult choice."

"Yeah, well I haven't decided yet," Harry squirmed slightly. He hated lying to Hermione. "I wanted to know some more about them first." He was actually pretty certain he wanted to write about anything _but_ elves, but he couldn't tell her that.

"Well I think you should definitely do it," Hermione said. "I'll recommend you some books."

"Thanks," said Harry uncomfortably. "Were there any marriages between humans and elves? What about the elves that stayed behind?"

Hermione smiled at his interest and Harry again felt guilty for making her think he was actually interested in his studies. "Given human attitudes towards elves I doubt any of them would have gotten married. The books didn't mention it anyway. And the only elves that stayed are the ones that became house-elves."

Harry nodded. So either Malachai was lying about marriage between humans and elves or the records were incorrect. "I don't understand how elves could turn into house-elves. Weren't elves just like humans only with pointy ears?"

"That's right," Hermione said proudly. "The way I understand it, house elves weren't actually the same species. We call them house-_elves_ because they came with the forest elves as servants. Humans liked the idea and bound house-elves to their families so when the elves left those house-elves were unable to go with them. The relationship between house-elf and family has changed from servant to slave since then and it's humans who imposed the rules house-elves hold themselves to today, like punishments and clothing being a sign of freedom." She studied Harry, who had begin to lose interest when it looked like she was beginning one of her standard S.P.E.W. rants. "Does that help?"

"Yeah," Harry said gratefully. "It does."

And it did. It might not tell him how much he could trust Malachai but it did give him some idea of where he was coming from. At least he knew some of what he'd been told was the truth. As for the rest, there wasn't anyone who could confirm that – at least not anyone he'd be inclined to believe. But he had enough doubts now that he had to know the truth. If his mother had really been adopted by the Evans family as a cover then that meant he wasn't really related to Petunia Dursley. _That_ at least he had little trouble believing. It might even explain a lot about her attitude towards her sister and nephew.

But it also meant that the blood protection that kept him safe at the Dursleys didn't exist. If that was the case then Dumbledore almost certainly didn't know about it and every time he returned to Privet Drive he was risking not only his life but theirs.

Surely Petunia would know that Lily hadn't really been her sister. If only he could speak to her. He almost laughed aloud at that. He spent every moment he was with the Dursleys desperate to leave and now he was away from them he suddenly wanted to speak to Petunia. A thought struck him then. She knew about the blood protection, if she knew Lily wasn't her sister she wouldn't have put any faith in it, and certainly she would have told Vernon that it wasn't real when he'd decided to keep Harry imprisoned in their house. So that meant she and Lily really were sisters.

Unless she didn't know what the blood protection entailed. She'd learnt about it in a letter, maybe she misunderstood it or...

Harry shook his head in frustration when he realised part of him actually wanted to believe it, was even making up reasons why it could be true. It wasn't that he wanted to be an elf prince, far from it, but the idea of having family hidden in another realm, alive and safe from Voldemort, was too tantalising to give up.

He may not be able to ask Petunia anything, but there was one other person who could help him. Someone right there in the school.

He sat before Dumbledore's desk, quickly going over the questions he'd prepared in advance – a task that did not in any way liken him to Hermione. They'd just finished another Occlumency lesson, but the fact that he'd managed to block Dumbledore's last attempt to enter his mind, barely registered. Now Dumbledore was gazing at him with something akin to worry in his eyes. "Harry, is everything alright?"

Harry started at the question. He was half surprised that Dumbledore hadn't seen the reason he was slightly distracted in his mind, but he was glad of it. At least it meant his questions might appear somewhat innocent. "I've been thinking about the prophecy you told me in September," he began.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said sagely. "I had wondered if you would have any questions about that."

"I... well I've been talking to Hermione," Harry said haltingly. "I didn't tell her the prophecy or anything," he added. "I just asked her about the magical prime and... I think the Half-Blood Prince will come exactly a year after the prophecy was given."

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Yes, I believe you are right."

Harry looked up in surprise. "You knew already?"

"I too, managed to deduce this much," Dumbledore said and Harry thought he dedected a hint of apology in his tone. "I regret I did not tell you sooner, but I rather felt you had enough on your mind."

"It was my birthday wasn't it?" said Harry.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Yes, it was, Harry. I must confess I had hoped not to have to tell you this." He observed Harry over his folded his hands. "It may prove to be a coincidence."

"But it might not," Harry said, his voice catching. He had so hoped Dumbledore would tell him he was wrong.

"When I was told of the prophecy, even before I came to realise when it would come to pass, I suspected it would involve you," Dumbledore continued sadly. "Your father was a pure-blood and your mother a muggle-born, making you a half-blood. You are also an extremely important young man. Your position in the wizarding world may well equate you to a prince of our society – at least in the eyes of the prophecy. And the timing... The prophecy will come to fruition on the day you reach adulthood. A year after that, all will be decided once and for all."

Harry nodded. "Why didn't you tell me that part?"

"There was no evidence, only the conjecture of an old man who has already made so many mistakes. I did not want to give you yet another burden until I knew for certain. However you once again proved more resourceful than I expected."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He was still angry that something so important had been kept from him even after he'd been promised full disclosure. He should be used to it by now.

As he left the office, his anger still simmering just below the surface, he realised that even though Dumbledore agreed there was a possibilty he was the Half-Blood Prince he didn't seem to know anything about the elves. Of course there was the possibility that he _did_ know and it was yet another thing that he was keeping from Harry.

Harry made a frustrated sound and kicked at the wall. He was driving himself insane with all this and he still didn't know for certain what was truth and what was lies.

Well there was one more person he could ask. His mother was dead and everyone else was either untrustworthy or just didn't know and it was getting harder to tell where on that scale the people around him fell. Aunt Petunia might not have the best record when it came to honesty, but if she really wasn't his mother's sister she'd be only too happy to tell him. But to ask her he'd have to send her an owl and that was not the best way to endear himself to her, nor a particularly safe thing to do with the war heating up.

He changed course mid stride and moved quickly towards the Owlery. The worst she could do is ignore the letter entirely and she might even tell him something useful.

Hedwig flew straight down to his shoulder as soon as he entered the Owlery. "Hey girl," he whispered, gently stroking her feathers. "I need you to take a letter for me, but you've got to be really careful, OK? Let me just write it." He pulled out parchment and a quill.

_Aunt Petunia,_

_Please don't just throw this letter away. Some things are happening at my school and I needed to ask you a really imortant question about my mother. Someone told me she was adopted and I just wanted to know if that was true. _

_Harry._

He didn't bother to thank her. She wouldn't have appreciated it anyway.

It was risky to write something so important down in a letter, but he was desperate. Besides he had a plan. He couldn't write it in code, Petunia would just throw it out without even bothering to read it. She might do that anyway, but Harry had read about a spell that should make the whole thing not only fool proof, but Dursley proof as well and be completely safe from Voldemort. He'd found it last year when he was trying to find a way to write to Sirius without Umbridge being able to read it. It might not have been suitable for the original purpose, but it would work for this.

He took the end of his quill in his right hand and sharply dug it into his thumb on his left. He hissed and dropped the quill, taking up his wand instead.

"_Velieris illa lacuna ut totus tamen meus cruor_," he said as he dripped blood on the parchment. The words shimmered for a moment before returning to normal.

It was quite a useful little spell, although it might be slightly illegal as it was based on blood. He turned the parchment and wrote some innocent message about leaving an important book at home and underneath it scrawled:

_Please write your reply only on the other side of this parchment for security reasons. Hedwig will wait for a reply, just call for her when you're ready. If you don't want to reply just tell Hedwig and she'll come back to me._

Anyone intercepting the letter would only be able to read the second message, but Petunia, whose blood Harry shared would be able to read both. It was as safe as Harry could make it without delivering it himself. As he tied it loosely to Hedwig's leg he wondered if maybe he should just wait until the summer to speak to her in person, but he knew he couldn't. He needed to know now.

"It's for Aunt Petunia," Harry said softly. He laughed softly as she hooted in distaste. "I know, I know. But I haven't tied it on too tight. You should be able to get it off yourself and just drop it on her head or something. I don't want you alone in that house any longer than necessary."

Hedwig hooted her understanding as Harry carried her to the window.

"Wait for a reply unless she tells you not to," Harry continued. "But don't wait inside. Go to one of the trees in the garden where you'll hear her calling." He sighed as he scratched the top of her head and she nipped at his fingers in response. "Get back as fast as you can." He lifted his arm high and with a slight squeeze of her talons she was aloft and winging her way south.

"I love your owl. She's so beautiful."

Harry spun around to find Hannah Abbott standing by the door. "I didn't realise you were there." Had she heard him talking to Hedwig? He hadn't said anything that could be considered sensitive information had he?

"No, I didn't think you did." There was a look in her eyes Harry couldn't decipher. "You're very sweet with her."

Harry flushed scarlet. "I need to get back to my common room."

"Oh." Her face fell slightly. "Would you mind staying? Just while I send my letter. It's so creepy alone here in the dark."

Harry looked around awkwardly. While not the most comforting of places he wouldn't have called the Owlery creepy. "Er, alright."

She smiled shyly. "I'll just be a moment." She whistled softly and an owl flew down to her. It held out one leg imperiously. "I wouldn't normally post anything at night, but I forgot to write my weekly letter to my mum and what with the war and everything, she panics if she doesn't hear from me." She tied a letter to the owl's leg. "You know what mum's are like."

"Hmm," Harry said non-commitally.

"Oh, God!" Hannah's eyes widened in horror. "Oh that was so insensitive of me, Harry. I'm so sorry! Can you ever forgive me?"

She was staring at him, with such a sorrowful look in her eyes that Harry couldn't be angry at her. "It's OK."

"But it's _not_," Hannah lamented.

And then she was hugging him, her face pressed into his shoulder and what was he supposed to do with his hands? With Hermione he'd just kind of pat her on the back until she let go. Maybe that would work here.

He reached round with one hand, trying to ignore how uncomfortable this whole situation made him and lightly tapped her back. Far from making her back off, this only caused her to grab onto him more tightly. She was so close he could smell the sickly scent of her perfume.

He tried shrugging one shoulder, hoping she'd get the message and back off, but she continued to cling to him, sniffling slightly. He cringed at the thought of her crying all over him.

"You'd better send your letter," Harry said at last.

Finally he had space to breathe. She took a step back and nodded. Her eyes were dry, but looked a little red. She turned back to the owl. "Take the letter to Mrs. Margaret Abbott at seven Greater Tor Road in Aberdeen," she instructed.

As soon as the owl took flight Hannah was turning to him. She was giving him that pitying look that always got his anger boiling, but he kept his face neutral. Now she was done they could get out of here and go their separate ways.

They walked down the stairs, side by side and Harry found himself glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. He had found himself looking at the girls of Hogwarts, trying to see a resemblance to Malachai, hoping to find his daughter, but they all seemed wrong. There were plenty of pretty girls at Hogwarts, but none of them had the ethereal beauty of the elves he had met, although he had never seen a female elf, maybe it wasn't a quality they shared.

He had to discount Hannah straight away. Somehow he couldn't imagine an elf acquiring such a deep tan and her eyes, a blue so pale they were almost grey, also didn't fit with his image of an elf. Nor did he think an elf would ever hike their skirt _that_ far up their legs, given the old fashioned style of their clothing.

Hannah seemed to misread his not so subtle glances and was blushing prettily. When they reached the Entrance Hall to go their separate ways she turned to him with a big smile.

"I was wondering if you'd like to meet me next time we get to go to Hogsmeade," she said hopefully. "We could get a butterbeer, or something."

Harry abruptly remembered Hermione warning him about Hannah at the beginning of term and could have hit himself. She probably thought he had been looking at her because he fancied her. "Er..."

"You don't have to," she said quickly. "I'd understand if you didn't want to, or if you already have plans."

She looked so depressed as she said it that Harry didn't want to further hurt her feelings. "Yeah, maybe. I don't know what we'll be doing yet, but um... I guess we could."

If she was bothered by his less than enthusiastic response she didn't show it. Instead she beamed at him and leaned up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you for waiting for me," she said, suddenly shy. She was looking up at him through her eyelashes as if she were waiting for him to say or do something.

"That's alright," Harry shrugged, stepping away. "I'll see you in class."

"Oh. Yes. We have Herbology tomorrow don't we? How did you do on the homework? I had trouble remembering everything Professor Sprout said about how to harvest foxgloves for potion use."

"Hermione took great notes," Harry said, taking another step towards the stairs. "She helped Ron and me."

"Right."

She seemed to be looking for something else to say to prolong their conversation so Harry took the opportunity to take two more steps away from her. He was on the stairs now. "Bye," he called, turning and walking quickly up the steps. He kept walking, purposefully not turning back or stopping until he had rounded a corner and knew she could no longer see him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Had she thought he would kiss her? He barely knew anything about her, apart from the fact that she had worn one of those 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges during the Triwizard Tournament and she'd thought he was the heir of Slytherin in second year. She might be pretty, but then so was Cho and look how well _that_ turned out. No, next time he was going for a girl he might actually be able to talk to. Of course, that wouldn't be until after Voldemort was gone; it wouldn't be fair to put that kind of price on a girl's head just for seeing him and if he didn't survive the final battle then there would be no one to get hurt over him. It was better that way.

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"Look Crabbe, it's Potty and his team. They're here to practise _losing_."

"Very witty, Malfoy," Harry said scathingly. "Hey Ron, don't you think it's a bit sad that Malfoy doesn't even call his best friends by their first names?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed with a smirk. "Anyone would think he didn't know what it's like to have a real friend. Poor Malfoy."

"Aw, don't feel bad," Harry said with a grin. "At least he has his fabulous wealth. He can use that to pay people to be his friends."

Malfoy's face had turned an interesting shade of red. "Too bad it can't buy you looks, eh Potter? Oh well, at least you have _friends_." He gave Ron a doubtful look. "Personally I'd rather do without."

Katie laid a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder. "Come on you two. We only have an hour to get some practise in."

"Yes, you'd better run along," Malfoy said making shooing gestures. "Wouldn't want you to blame me for your lack of practise when we slaughter you all next week." He moved off, Crabbe and Goyle following closely on his heels.

"Hah!" Ron said loudly. "He's never beaten you to the snitch and I doubt he ever will. As long as the girls can pull off all the plays they won't stand a chance."

"Hmph!" Ginny snorted. "Let's just hope our Keeper isn't so busy congratulating himself that he forgets what he's supposed to be doing."

Ron flushed. "Well it's true."

"Let's just get up in the air," said Harry reasonably. If they got into an argument now they'd miss their whole hour and with the game against Slytherin next week they needed all the practise they could get.

They kicked off and the Quaffle immediately began to fly between the three Chasers. Jimmy and Ritchie were hitting a Bludger between them in a remarkable imitation of a tennis match and Ron was soaring between the goal posts. Harry flew high above them all, co-ordinating and keeping an eye out for the snitch.

By the second time he'd caught the snitch it was completely dark and a chill wind was blowing in from the lake. He glanced at his watch and blew his whistle. "Time's up! Good practise everyone. As long as we remember to work as a team on Saturday we'll have no trouble with Slytherin."

"Unless they fight dirty," Katie called back darkly as she headed down to the ground.

Harry and the rest of the team followed, alighting near the equipment shed. Jimmy wrestled the Bludger into the crate and Ritchie strapped it down.

"Where's the Quaffle?" Harry asked, not seeing it in the usual spot.

"Demelza had it," Ginny said, glancing around. "Where is she?"

"Oi! Demelza!" Ron yelled. He squinted into the darkness. "There she is."

She flew towards them, low to the ground, looking fretful. She landed next to Harry, her head hanging. "I dropped the Quaffle," she said so quietly Harry almost didn't hear it. "Somewhere over there," she waved towards the edge of the pitch, where the light disappeared behind the stands.

Harry sighed. He'd had a long week and had been looking forward to a quick shower before falling into bed. "It's alright Demelza. We'll all help look for it."

"We could just summon it," Katie pointed out. She removed her wand and aimed it in the direction Demelza had indicated. "_Accio _Quaffle."

Nothing happened. Katie tried again with the same results, this time looking a bit embarrassed. "It doesn't make any sense," she said. "I know I'm doing it right."

"Guess we're doing it the muggle way then," Harry shrugged. "Come on, if we all go it won't take too long_._ Send up sparks if you find it."

They walked into the dark, their wands lit as brightly as possible, spreading out to cover as much ground as they could, but the Quaffle seemed to have disappeared.

Five minutes later Harry was just about to call off the search and offer to replace the Quaffle himself, when a scream tore through the air and Harry's blood ran cold.


	12. Quintaped

Chapter 12 – Quintaped

Harry was running even before the first scream faded. His blood was pounding in his ears as he leaped over a fallen branch and skidded to a halt.

Before him Demelza was being held down by a large five legged creature covered in coarse red fur. It was strangely spider like in appearance, with its body hanging low between it's club-footed legs. It howled and lowered its gaping mouth towards her abdomen. The Quaffle lay beside it, shredded beyond repair. Apparently the creature, whatever it was, had used it as some sort of chew toy.

"_Stupefy_," Harry yelled, and the creature squealed and fell backwards where it was hit by two more curses from Ron and Katie who had just arrived.

"Demelza," Harry said softly. The creature hadn't been knocked out by their spells as a human would have been, but was staring at them and shivering. "Demelza come towards me. _Slowly_."

Demelza didn't move. She was shaking uncontrollably and tears were running down her face but she seemed frozen in place. It looked like the creature had bitten her arm through her pads.

The creature growled, drawing Harry's attention back to it. It seemed to be looking between them and Demelza, as if it were trying to determine whether or not attacking her was worth the risk.

Harry began inching towards Demelza, afraid that any sudden movements would make the creature attack. "I've got you," he whispered as he lifted Demelza to her feet. She barely responded to him, only a flicker of her eyes let him know she was even aware he was there. Was this what shock was like?

Harry pulled her arm around his shoulders and shifted her weight onto him so he could half lead, half drag her back to the others. The creature was sniffing at them and edging closer. "Ron," Harry hissed.

Ron's eyes were wide and staring at the creature, but his wand hand was rock steady. "Just keep it slow, I'll hex it if I think it's going to do something."

One step at a time: that was the key. As long as they kept moving slowly and appeared unthreatening they might be able to get away. The creature moved with a lumbering gait that wasn't particularly fast so all they needed was some distance before they could make a run for it. Now he was so close to her he could feel Demelza shaking against him and see the way she stared ahead blankly, almost completely unaware of her surroundings. The arm not around his shoulders was covered in blood and her face was deathly pale. They needed to get her to the hospital wing before she lost too much blood and there was always the possibility that something in the monster's bite had poisoned her, like when Mr Weasley was bitten by the snake last Christmas.

"Harry, RUN!" Katie screamed as Ron shot off two spells in quick succession. Harry didn't wait to see if they'd work and started running towards the rest of the Quidditch team who were now all huddled together and firing off spells, pulling Demelza along as quickly as he could.

The uneven ground and poor light betrayed him and he went crashing down into the undergrowth bringing Demelza down with him. He scrambled to rise in a tangle of arms and legs, but couldn't get free of Demelza and by then the creature was upon them. Harry screamed as its teeth clamped into his leg, just above the knee, tearing the skin and immediately soaking his own robes in blood.

As quickly as it had attacked the creature was gone, allowing Harry to draw in a shuddering breath. "Thanks," he said as Katie crouched next to him. Stabbing pains were shooting up his thigh and the muscle was twitching beneath the torn skin.

"It wasn't me," Katie said as she wrapped a conjured bandage around his leg and turned to Demelza. "This looks a mess, we should get you two back to the castle."

"Yeah, but what about _that_?" Ron demanded hysterically, his wand still aimed at the creature.

Harry tried to stand, but his injured leg wouldn't support his weight. He leaned on Ritchie to balance. "Just do whatever you did again until it runs away. We can let the teachers take care of it once we're back at the school."

"Seriously, mate, we didn't do anything," Ron insisted. "It bit you and then it backed off."

Harry half turned to where the creature was making hissing noises. "Is it... spitting?"

"Don't think it liked your blood," Ron said.

Harry would have felt insulted if he wasn't so relieved. "We can worry about that later. Let's just...What is it doing?"

"...Sniffing?" Ginny guessed.

It had crawled closer again, close enough to attack, but it seemed almost wary now and it did indeed seem to be sniffing them. It bared its bloody fangs and Harry could _feel_ it looking at him before it began to slink away.

"I can't believe it's just leaving," Jimmy said quietly.

Harry shook his head. "Right now, I don't care what it does as long as it leaves us alone. We need to get back."

They made the trek back towards the castle, stopping beside the equipment shed, where Katie and Ginny gathered their brooms. Jimmy was now carrying Demelza who still seemed to be completely out of it, while Ritchie supported Harry. He was beginning to feel a bit light headed now and just wanted to sit down, but he knew they couldn't stop. Ron was walking behind them, guarding their retreat in case the creature came back.

At last they were inside the castle and Harry felt relief wash through him.

"What have we here?" Madame Pomfrey said tiredly as they dragged themselves into the hospital wing. Her eye roved over the group, assessing the injuries. "Mr Peakes, put her down on the bed. Mr Weasley, go to my office and use the floo to contact Professor Dumbledore. You'll find the powder in a jar on the mantel. Mr Potter, your usual bed is empty."

Harry couldn't help but grin now the danger was over. "Thanks." He limped over to the bed closest to the window and dropped down on it. Ritchie followed closely in case he fell.

"You have your own bed?" Ritchie said, without a trace of amusement. Now they were safe Harry could see the signs of shock in all his team mates. Only he and Ron seemed relatively normal, probably because they'd both been through worse. It was still a relief to be able to rest his leg and he felt as though his thigh had been through a meat grinder, but otherwise he was fine.

"I'll need to know exactly what happened," Madame Pomfrey was saying as she examined Demelza. "This looks to be a bite mark though what caused it I couldn't say."

"I've never seen anything like it," Ginny said in a whisper.

"I think I have," Katie said slowly. "Maybe in a school book. It had five legs and _really_ big teeth."

"Five legs?" Dumbledore said, sweeping into the wing from Madame Pomfrey's office, Ron close on his heels. "Was it by any chance covered in fur?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. It was kind of reddish-brown, sir. Do you know what it is?"

"I believe so," said Dumbledore. "You were attacked by a Quintaped. The are native to Scotland, but only located on the Isle of Drear. Madame Pomfrey, look after your patients. I believe a calming draught would be in order for all these students. I will gather the teachers to scour the grounds for this Quintaped."

"Yes, yes, calming draughts," Madame Pomfrey said absently, still waving her wand over Demelza as Dumbledore left. "Miss Bell look on the third shelf above my desk. Bring me the large bottle filled with pink potion and seven vials." Katie nodded and ran into the office.

Madame Pomfrey pulled the curtains closed around Demelza and the rest of the team came to sit around Harry's bed. Katie returned a few seconds later and handed round vials of calming potion. Harry swallowed his quickly and felt a warmth flood through him, washing away a numbing cold he hadn't even been aware of.

"Typical," Ron said. "You couldn't even make it to Halloween without getting yourself into the hospital wing."

Harry forced a smile at the obvious attempt to lighten the mood. "What's life without a little drama?"

"Frankly, mate, I think you could do with a little less of it," Ron said with a grimace.

They sat in silence for a while until Madame Pomfrey came bustling out from behind Demelza's curtains. The rest of the team immediately began firing questions at her, but she held up one hand. "I've given her a Dreamless Sleep potion," she told them. "You can sit with her for a few minutes if you like, but don't you dare disturb her."

"Will she be alright for the Quidditch match next week?" Ron demanded.

"She'll be fine. All she needs is a good sleep and she'll need to wear a sling for a day or so. She should be right as rain as long as she doesn't go doing something ridiculously dangerous, like flying around on a broom. That goes for you too young man," she said with a pointed glare at Harry. "Now all of you, shoo."

They left and Madame Pomfrey closed his curtains. "Turn over," she said in her no nonsense way.

Harry sighed, but did as he was told. He felt air hit the wound as she cut his trouser leg away and then she was prodding it with her wand. Harry hissed.

"Yes, yes, but you _will_ go out and get yourself injured," she said with little sympathy. The bite began to tingle as the skin knit together. "The muscle was damaged, but nothing that a day of bed rest won't fix. Now don't you go groaning, I'm not about to let you go running about on that leg. I spend quite enough of my time putting you back together after your little stunts thank you very much."

A moment later the tingly feeling disappeared. "There. Change into these pyjamas and say goodnight to your friends. I'll leave this vial of Dreamless Sleep on the cabinet. Make sure you take it all." And she was gone, making sure the curtains were pulled tightly to allow him some privacy.

He changed as quickly as he could without straining his twinging muscle and pulled back the curtains before limping back to bed hoping Madame Pomfrey wouldn't see him up. It wasn't terribly painful anymore, but his leg still felt shaky and he wasn't sure how long it would support him.

The team came over, giving him commiserating looks and said their goodnights. They were soon all gone, but Ron who looked like he was thinking of staying for the night.

"You don't have to stay with me, you know," Harry told him. "Maybe you should let Hermione know what happened. She might know something about the Quintaped thing. And I'd better take this potion before Pomfrey comes and yells at me some more."

"Yeah," said Ron with a glance at the office door that had been left open. Any minute now Madame Pomfrey would be yelling at him to leave and for Harry to take his potion. "Look mate, you don't think Malfoy put that Quintaped thing there do you?"

Harry frowned. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"It's just, he was there right before and Dumbledore did say they all lived on some island."

"Hmm." Although Malfoy wouldn't be upset if the whole Gryffindor team was eaten by some monster Harry somehow doubted he had set loose a dangerous creature on the grounds on the off chance it would come across his class rivals. If Demelza hadn't dropped the Quaffle they might never have seen it. But there _was_ someone on the grounds who had a thing for dangerous creatures, who might possibly have obtained it for some sort of class project. "I think we should go and see Hagrid once I get out of here. We haven't seen him all term except for in class."

Ron's eyes widened as he realised what Harry was implying. "No, he wouldn't."

Harry sent him a level glare. "One word: Norbert."

Ron swore under his breath. "You're right, we should go and see him, but in the daylight when that thing can't sneak up on us."

"Boys!" Madame Pomfrey called.

"Agreed," said Harry, reaching for his potion. "We can go after class on Monday."

Ron rose from his seat. "I'll bring Hermione tomorrow; see if she can't tell us more about it." He left, muttering to himself, "I can't believe I'm actually _aski_ng her to lecture me on stuff now."

Harry grinned as he gulped his potion. A few moments later his eye lids grew heavy and he barely had time to place the empty vial on the bedside cabinet before he fell back onto his pillows in a deep sleep.

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He was warm and so incredibly comfortable he didn't think he'd be able to move for hours, maybe even days. Slowly his memories from the night before returned and he half smiled. He didn't think he'd ever been glad to be bed bound before.

He shifted slightly to relieve the pressure on his thigh and became aware of a weight on the bed beside him. He still couldn't find it in him to care much. It was probably just Hermione or someone come to discuss the Quintaped and right now he was more interested in going back to sleep.

There were hushed voices coming from beyond his curtains, but they weren't loud enough to disturb him so he wriggled further under the covers, ignoring the way the weight beside him giggled. Wait, giggled? Hermione never giggled she was far too serious. It was one of the things he liked best about her.

Something – like a finger – gently brushed his forehead, tracing his scar and Harry's eyes snapped open. A small girl perhaps six years old, with long blonde hair was staring at him avidly. "Do you have a horse?"

"Whuh?" Harry's voice was thick with sleep. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What? Who are you?"

"I'm Emellia," the girl announced. "You're Harry Potter. You can call me Em."

"Right," Harry said slowly, pushing himself up to a sitting position, ignoring the twinge in his leg. "Nice to meet you, Em."

"My mum says you have a horse, but 'Melza says you have a broom instead."

"'Melza? Do you mean Demelza? She's right I do have a broom. No horse though."

"But my mum says you're a hero and heroes hafta have a horse or they're not real heroes, so why don't you have a horse?"

Harry blinked as he tried to work his way through that sentence. "Sorry, no horse. And I'm not a hero. What are you doing here?" he asked, hoping to stop her asking about horses.

"We came to see 'Melza. She's my sister, but I wish I had a brother instead, 'cos all she does is talk about _boys_." She made a disgusted face at that.

Harry had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say to that. "That must be awful."

"I keep telling mummy that if she _was_ a boy then she wouldn't want to talk about boys. She won't even play with me anymore."

"Er... what a shame." He was completely lost here and he still felt fuzzy from sleep.

"She fancies a _boy_!"

The curtains were ripped back and Demelza stood there, her arm in a sling and face bright red as she stared down at Em. "Come on, Em, mum's going spare. You know you're not supposed to wander off."

Em slid off the bed and went to join her sister, waving back at Harry as she disappeared from sight. "Sorry, Harry," Demelza said softly, pulling the curtains back.

"Happy Halloween, Harry," Em yelled.

"Happy Halloween." Harry smiled as he leaned back on his pillows, wide awake now and listened to Demelza scolding Em as they walked back up the ward. "I can't believe you were about to tell _Harry Potter _who I fancy."

He didn't hear Em's reply as his curtains were pulled back again and Hermione marched in carrying what looked like one of her school books with Ron trailing behind her.

"Oh good, you're awake," she said as she pulled up a chair. "How are you feeling?"

Harry thought about it. "Pretty good actually. I can barely feel my leg now."

"Madame Pomfrey says you can go tonight, as long as you promise not to over exert your leg for a couple of days," Hermione told him.

"Malfoy thought you getting injured was hilarious," Ron announced. "If you ask me I still say he set that thing loose."

Hermione shook her head. "He was laughing about it, but he didn't seem to know any more about what attacked you than anyone else does and he didn't have that smug look he gets when he's behind something."

Harry sat up straighter. "Did you find out anything about the Quintaped?" he asked, indicating the book.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I didn't have to look long and if you read a little more you wouldn't have needed to ask me at all," she said. "It was in one of our first year textbooks." She held up the book so Harry could read the cover: _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ She opened it to a marked page. "They're also called Hairy Macboons and have a five X rating. It says that they have a 'particular taste for humans.'"

"Yeah, I think we noticed that, thanks," Harry said, rubbing the back of his thigh.

Hermione ignored him. "But it really shouldn't have been here at all. They've only ever been located on the Isle of Drear, which was made unplottable to keep anyone from running across them."

"Forget where they come from," Ron said. "Why was it _here_? And why did it spit out Harry's blood."

Harry had forgotten that detail in all the excitement, but apparently Ron hadn't.

Hermione was frowning. "I really don't know about that. Everything I've found on them suggests that they love the taste of humans. Maybe there's something in Harry's blood that it found unpalatable. You said it left after that, for no apparent reason?"

Harry tuned them out. It couldn't be could it? But Hermione's words were ringing in his ears. _They love the taste of humans._ Well apparently they weren't so keen on him. _Something in Harry's blood. _There was nothing, except for the thing he'd been denying to himself for months. He wanted to ask Hermione if Quintaped's liked elf blood, but didn't know how to without raising her suspicions.

He glanced up as Hermione called his name. "Harry! I was asking if you could think of anything that would have frightened it off. It seems to have been a scent of some kind."

"Maybe it was Harry's blood," Ron suggested.

"Which brings us back to the question: what is there about Harry that made it back off? If we were in the muggle world we could do blood tests."

Ron looked appalled. "What? You'd ask Harry to willingly give his blood to have things done to it?"

Hermione sighed. "I'd forgotten wizards had those archaic ideas about giving blood."

"It's not archaic," Ron snapped. "Wizards happen to have very good reasons for it."

"It didn't work out so well for anyone last time I _gave_ blood," Harry said cynically.

Ron gave Hermione a 'there you see' look while she just gasped. "Maybe there's something to that," she said. "Maybe it recognised your blood because of Voldemort."

Harry gaped at her. "Are you seriously considering the idea of that thing getting a taste of Voldemort's blood and then coming here? To what? Kill me? Because it seemed rather opposed to that idea once it got a taste." They both ignored the way Ron flinched at the Dark Lord's name. "Voldemort would never allow some creature to drink his blood unless there was something in it for him and there doesn't seem to be."

Hermione frowned. "You're right. I'm grasping at straws. I guess we'll just have to go to the library. We need to find anything that repels a Quintaped. Maybe that will give us a clue."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. Now he just had to hope elves didn't come up. "Bring some books back here, at least it will give me something to do while I'm stuck here all day."

Once they were gone Harry leaned back and rested his eyes. Madame Pomfrey came in at some point to check on his leg but otherwise he was undisturbed until Demelza stuck her head through his curtains.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly.

Harry nodded.

She sat nervously, holding her injured arm as still as possible. "Are you alright?"

"Fine actually," Harry said easily. "Can't wait to get out of here though. How about you?"

Demelza's smile was forced. "I'll be OK. Madame Pomfrey is making me keep the sling on for a couple of days, but she says I can go now."

Harry stared at her enviously. "I have to stay until tonight. She doesn't want me to put any weight on it yet."

They shared a commiserating look before Demelza glanced away, her cheeks flushed. "I wanted to thank you, for helping me."

"Well, er, that's OK."

"And I wanted to apologise too. You got hurt because of me."

"Really, it's nothing," he said, eager to relieve her of her guilt. He knew what it was like to wallow in the feeling and in her case there really was no need.

"I just felt so useless," Demelza confessed. "I'm a Gryffindor, I'm supposed to be brave, but that thing attacked me and I just _froze_. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Harry insisted. "Everyone reacts differently when they're scared. Some people panic, some freeze. I bet you've never been in a situation like that before. It's alright to freeze, a lot of people do the first time they're in danger, it's up to you to make sure you don't do the same thing if there's a next time."

Demelza shook her head. "But you didn't do either of those things. You did something about it and so did Ron and Katie. They weren't scared."

Harry didn't laugh, he knew she'd think he was laughing at her and she'd retreat. "They were. Once we got back here Katie was shaking like a leaf, and Ron, well he's faced worse... Never repeat this to anyone, but I remember in second year we met some acromantula and all Ron could do was scream."

"Acromantula!" Demelza gasped.

"The point was that they acted despite their fear. That thing could have ripped us all apart, it's only natural that we were scared. I know I was. And maybe this time you froze, but there's nothing wrong with that. You should have been safe and you were attacked, you were injured and losing blood. But you can conquer that fear and next time, you'll be able to do what you need to save yourself."

Demelza gazed at him sceptically.

"Were your whole family here earlier?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.

"The school contacted them to let them know I was hurt," Demelza explained. "I'm sorry you had to put up with Em. She got bored and wandered off and we didn't notice right away. I can't believe she came and bothered you."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't really mind, though she did keep asking me if I had a horse."

Demelza groaned and hid her flaming cheeks in her hands. "Oh she didn't!"

Harry grinned. "I assume there's some kind of story there."

"She's obsessed with fairy tales at the moment," said Demelza without looking up. "And well... mum's always told us about how you defeated You-Know-Who when you were a baby. Em's got it into her head that you're some kind of fairy tale hero and they're usually knights or princes or something and ride to save the day on a horse. The first thing she asked when she found out you saved me was if you rode in on a white horse. I can't _believe_ she asked you that."

"Actually it's kind of funny," Harry said.

They talked for a little longer before Demelza left to go back to Gryffindor tower and Harry spent some time thinking over their conversation. Although glad he'd been able to help her he was a bit unnerved by all those things he'd said about fear – at the time he'd thought he was talking from experience, but now, looking back, it was almost Dumbledorish.

Ron and Hermione returned an hour or so later with a couple of books on magical creatures and they spent the rest of the day going through them, with little success. The only consolation Harry had was that at no point had they come across any mention of elves in relation to Quintapeds. Maybe there was nothing to it after all. But Harry could think of no other reason for the Quintaped's reaction to his blood.

Despite his begging Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let him leave in time for the Halloween feast, but allowed him to go afterwards on the condition he went straight to the common room and stayed there for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately Ron and Hermione had other plans. They led him to an empty classroom near the tower and told him to sit down.

Harry was getting nervous by now. They were both so serious, he was sure he was about to get some really bad news. Had something happened at the Burrow?

"Harry," Hermione began, sitting opposite him. "Ron and I have been meaning to tell you something for a while now. It's not that we were trying to keep it from you, we just didn't know how to tell you and we were worried about how you'd take it."

Harry drew in a deep breath. "Just tell me."

She reached back and took Ron's hand. Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Ron and I... we're going out," Hermione said carefully.

Harry groaned, relishing the panicked looks on their faces. "It happened and I_ missed_ it?"

It was their turn to look surprised. "You don't mind?" Ron asked.

"Mind? Why would I mind? Though I am kind of disappointed you won't be dancing around each other any more," Harry said with a grin.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "You knew we... and you didn't say anything?"

"Nah, that would totally ruin it for everyone else," Harry laughed. "Wait, you haven't told anyone apart from me have you?"

Hermione shook her head. "We wanted you to be the first to know."

"Are you going to tell everyone now?"

Hermione glanced at Ron who shrugged. "Probably."

Harry jumped up. "Let's go do that now." He paused, halfway to the door. "Just for the sake of clarity, when exactly did this happen?"

"About a week ago," said Ron, bewildered.

"No, I mean exactly."

"It was the night of the Hogsmeade visit," Hermione said in exasperation. "After you stormed off Ron and I started talking. I was a bit upset and he consoled me and well..." she blushed brightly as she trailed off and Harry didn't need her to continue. He felt slightly guilty at the reminder of how he'd yelled at her though.

"I'm, er, sorry for what I said that night," he said awkwardly. Though maybe not as sorry now he knew what had happened once he'd gone.

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "You already apologised, it's fine although I do wish you'd learn to control that temper of yours."

"Yeah," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "Sometimes it just gets the better of me, you know."

Hermione softened and smiled. "You're really alright with this then?"

Harry grinned. "I'm really alright with it. I'm happy for you even."

She beamed at him, but Harry was staring at Ron who was looking decidedly ill at ease. "I'll be in the common room," she said, obviously sensing they needed to talk without her around.

They were silent when she left. Harry was waiting for Ron to speak, but he was gazing steadily at his feet.

"You don't mind," he said at last. "I was worried that you... and Hermione..."

Harry sighed. "I don't feel that way about her, never have. She's my best friend, the idea of us being anything else is... just wrong."

Ron frowned. "Me and Ginny wrong, or Dennis Creevey and Cho Chang wrong?"

Harry snorted. "You and Ginny."

"So she's like a sister to you," said Ron looking considerably brighter.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding firmly. "So as her brother, I'm going to have to warn you that I'm watching you. If you do anything stupid, if you hurt her, I'll know and I'll make sure you regret it."

Ron faked a gulp. "Oh no, I'm so scared."

Harry laughed and thumped his arm. "Just get in there and tell everyone you two are together."

Ron followed him out the door and down the corridor where the fat lady's portrait hung. "Why are you so eager for everyone to find out?"

"No reason," Harry said innocently. He gave the password quickly before Ron could ask him another question and clambered through the portrait hole, taking care not to strain his leg.

Instead of his usual seat he plunked himself down next to Seamus who gave him a strange look.

"You'll see," Harry muttered nodding his head towards Ron who had gone straight to Hermione's side.

Seamus, along with Parvati, Lavender and Dean all looked in that direction just in time to see Ron kiss Hermione's cheek. She looked up and they exchanged a few words.

"That's sweet and all," Parvati began, "but why are we – oh."

Hermione had leaned up and kissed Ron. It was a chaste kiss, but there could be no doubt about the meaning for it. Seamus started digging through his bag.

"Right, Harry," he said as he pulled out a thin black book. "There are many interested parties who are going to want to know the when's and how's. I assume you've got the goods."

"It was the day of the Hogsmeade visit," Harry told him. "In the evening. Ron was comforting her after we had a bit of a fight. That's all I know."

"The Hogsmeade visit," Seamus muttered, flipping throught the book. "So that was the eighteenth of October. Right, got it." He jumped up on the coffee table and yelled for quiet. The common room was almost full at this time of the evening and everyone turned to look at him.

"I have a bit of an announcement," Seamus said loudly. "An event for which we have all been eagerly awaiting has at last occurred." He held up the book to assorted gasps and a few giggles. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, our very own prefects Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger have finally woken up to the scent of romance on the eighteenth of October."

The whole common room – apart from a number of first years who didn't seem to know what was going on – burst into applause while Hermione hid her face in Ron's shoulder and Ron's ears turned redder than his hair. Ginny was cheering over the rest, jumping up and down and pumping her fist. Harry just knew, as he too slapped his hands together, that she was going to give Ron a hard time over this.

Seamus held his hands up for silence. "I've checked the book and congratulations go to our very own Cormac Maclaggen. You win the whole pot of twenty nine galleons."

They were clapping again, but it was more restrained this time and then the Gryffindors were swarming over a confused Ron and Hermione to offer their own congratulations. Ron was smiling hugely although he still seemed a little flushed and Hermione was happily accepting hugs. Harry smirked, but stayed back, letting them enjoy this moment.


	13. Halloween Party

Chapter 13 – Halloween Party

The electric lights flickered and went out, blanketing the street in darkness, all except for the last house, brightly lit and with music blaring out.

No one heard the popping sounds that signified Apparition and no one saw the black cloaked figures that suddenly surrounded the house. Even if they had, the muggles who lived in the area wouldn't have known what it meant. On today of all days they'd probably just think it was a kids prank.

A long fingered hand plucked a plastic spider from the door. "Is_ this_ what muggles think Halloween is about?" a voice hissed. "Games and music?" A snake was wrapped around the door handle and the hand dropped the spider in favour of this new item.

"What purpose does the snake serve, Master?"

"The muggles believe such things are to be feared, Lucius," the first voice replied. "They try to scare each other by surprising the unsuspecting with these... toys. Yet it is they who are unsuspecting." The end of a yew wand touched the plastic snake which instantly began to writhe in his hand. "_Engorgio_," the voice whispered and the snake grew to twice its size, then three times, bigger and bigger until it was about ten feet long.

By now the hand had let go of the snake and it twisted around to look at the man that had given him life. "_What do you wish of me Master?_" it asked in parseltongue.

"_Enter this dwelling and follow your instincts. I want to hear them scream."_

The now monstrous snake slithered into the house. It was only moments before it was spotted and the screaming began.

Thin lips twisted up into what could be called a smile on anyone else, but on this man was closer to a grimace. "Come my Death Eaters. Tonight we celebrate Halloween with the muggles."

The dark figures followed their leader into the house, leaving the street empty of all but one small figure.

Harry stared after them in despair. The muggles in that house were going to be tortured if they weren't killed outright. Nausea swept over him at the thought. He didn't want to go in there, but he could feel the pull of his connection with Voldemort and knew he had no choice.

He walked through the front hall into what was usually a large living room, but all the furniture had been removed for the occasion. Banners hung on the walls along with various Halloween decorations, including more plastic spiders, snakes and bats. A buffet table lined the wall beside the door, but Harry wasn't looking at any of that. Twenty or so party guests cowered against the far wall, the enchanted snake swaying before them. The Death Eaters and Voldemort stood in a rough line, laughing at the muggles' plight.

"Please," a woman begged. A man Harry assumed was her husband was shielding her with his body as she clung to him.

"Call it off," he cried.

Harry turned away as many of the muggles began to plead for their lives. He couldn't bear to watch and he knew it would only get worse.

But there was a chance, however small, that he might be able to stop this. Dumbledore had said that if he found himself in this exact situation then he could at least _try_ to do something. But what? There were too many Death Eaters for him to fight, even if they couldn't see him, and he wasn't strong enough to take out Voldemort.

So what _could _he do? There was no point in attacking without a plan. His mind raced through the possibilities. He could get rid of the snake, but then the Death Eaters would just attack the muggles and Voldemort would know he was there. Besides, Voldemort was already calling it back to his side, allowing the muggles to relax briefly before he stepped forward, wand in hand.

"What do you want?" a man said desperately.

Voldemort stared at him. "_Crucio."_

The man fell to his knees, screaming uncontrollably and then it was over and he crumpled, sobbing and shivering into a heap.

An older man raised a hand imploringly. "What do you want?" he asked, echoing the first man. "Money? I have that. I'll give you whatever you want, just let everyone else go."

It was a very Gryffindor thing to do, Harry thought with a swell of compassion. Too bad Voldemort wouldn't appreciate it.

"I want nothing from you," he said derisively. "Muggle filth is good for only one thing. _Avada Kedavra."_

Harry swallowed hard as the brave old man fell to the floor, his blank eyes wide and staring. And then the snake was there after a hissed command from Voldemort, it's mouth gaping wide as it swallowed him whole. He remembered reading something the one time he went to the zoo about snakes doing that to their prey, but actually watching it brought the bile to Harry's throat.

His eyes snapped open as he remembered that trip to the zoo. Could he do that? He'd only have seconds and it wouldn't guarantee the muggles would survive, but so far he hadn't come up with anything better and he wasn't prepared to watch another die while he stood here like a lemon.

The only problem he had was that he couldn't really remember how he'd done it the first time. Back then he hadn't actually thought he'd _done_ anything.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to block out the noise around him. Someone was whimpering in terror while the Death Eaters laughed and jeered and the snake hissed contentedly, full and sluggish from its meal, but he had to push all that away. He couldn't help them while he was so focused on their suffering.

He tried to build a picture in his mind of what he wanted to happen. It had to be quick, but he had no way of directing the muggles. All he could do was hope they took the opportunity when it was presented.

The yelling was different now, no longer mindlessly scared, there was hope and purpose behind the noise. Harry's eyes opened and he saw that the wall behind the muggles had vanished exposing the house to the brisk wind outside. One man was waving the others through shouting hoarsely for them to run. Harry found himself calling out for them to hurry, despite knowing he couldn't be heard.

Voldemort was ordering his followers to stop them, telling the snake – which looked to be asleep – to attack, but once through the hole in the wall they were scattering and the Death Eaters were suddenly blocked when the wall reappeared.

Far from screaming in frustration as Harry suspected Voldemort seemed almost pleased. "I always did enjoy a good chase," he said icily. He stared at the Death Eaters who were moving away from the wall muttering to each other. "What are you waiting for?"

The Death Eaters started filing out of the door. Harry scrambled away even though he knew they would have walked right through him and heard one ask another, "who vanished the wall?"

As soon as the last Death Eater disappeared Voldemort turned and glared about the room. "So you're here then, are you Harry? I can't see you, which means I can't curse you, I doubt I can even touch you. But I can talk to you."

Harry gulped and backed into the nearest wall. He was sure he didn't want to hear anything Voldemort had to say.

"I can almost taste your fear," Voldemort said in a sing-song voice. "And it's so very... _good_. You should be scared. I might not be able to hurt you right now, but I promise you Harry, one day soon you will be on your knees before me, begging me to end your suffering."

"I'll never beg you for anything," Harry growled.

"I'll torture your friends first," Voldemort went on. "I'll even let you watch."

Harry's hand curled into fists. "I'll die before I let you hurt them."

"Of course, you can end it before it begins," Voldemort said as if a thought had just struck him. "Join me, Harry and your friends will be allowed to live in my new order."

If he could only wake up he wouldn't have to listen to Voldemort's cold voice anymore, but he'd never managed to will himself to wake up before. He closed his eyes as he had before and imagined himself waking up, safe in his bed in Gryffindor tower.

"Why do you even fight for them Harry?" Voldemort continued and Harry opened his eyes to see him walking around the room, his gaze flitting about as if he expected to suddenly see Harry hiding in a corner. "Why fight for people who can never truly understand you? You're too much like me for that. We are the wolves, they are just sheep. It is our duty to guide them. That is all I am doing: guiding the wizarding sheep out of the dark ages in which they have entrenched themselves."

"Yeah, but your idea of guiding is to kill anyone who disagrees with you," Harry snapped. "And what about the muggles? You don't want to guide them, you want to exterminate them."

"And why should you save them anyway? What have they done to deserve you sacrificing yourself for them, for that is what you will do if you continue to oppose me. They want you to be their sacrificial lamb and they'll send you to the big bad wolf, a martyr to their cause while they sit safe in their homes, not lifting a finger to help themsleves.

"You can't rely on any of them, not even the Ministry itself. They'd sooner use you as their scapegoat than accept responsibility for saving themselves. You're their little hero, but they'll only want you for as long as you can do something for them. They will use you until you have nothing more to give, until you have fulfilled your purpose and then they will forget you, as though you'd never existed. Why, all last year you were the victim of their selfishness. I returned and killed your classmate, but instead of doing something productive they made a leper of you, taught their children that you were the dangerous one, not me. And yet, you are willing to jump into the fire for people such as those. People that happily celebrate this day, the anniversary of the night your parents died, neither realising nor caring that you have sacrificed so much for them and can only give up more. They will only ever ask for more and more until you have no more to give. _That_ is the world you're dying for."

"You're wrong, so wrong," Harry said softly. "There are people who care about me and I'll fight for _them_, because I care about them too. But you wouldn't understand that and I pity you."

"The offer still stands though," Voldemort was saying. "Come to me, Harry. Stand at my side and together we will reign. Nothing would stop us. Or stay at school, safe for now, just waiting for the day when you must finally meet your end."

"Better dead than a Death Eater," Harry said contemptuously.

" This is your last chance, I will not offer again." Voldemort turned and seemed to look right at him. "Now wake up."

Harry gasped and sat up almost bumping heads with Ron who had been leaning over him. Sweat was running down his forehead in rivulets and his scar was burning white hot.

"I'm OK," Harry said taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"You were muttering in your sleep," Ron told him.

"He saw me," Harry said to himself. "At least, I think he did and he told me to wake up."

Ron stared at him. "Who?"

"Voldemort," Harry said, ignoring Ron's flinch. "He killed a man. It was a Halloween party... I don't know where. There were muggles... but I think I saved them... unless the Death Eaters caught them."

"You're babbling," Ron said, pushing him back down. "Do you want me to get McGonagall?"

"No," Harry said, struggling out of his bed covers. "I need to see Dumbledore. He might be able to help them."

"How?" Ron protested. "You don't even know where they are."

"I'm not just going to just lie here," Harry insisted, standing on wobbly legs and wrapping his robes around his shoulders.

Ron sighed. "Alright then. D'you want me to come with you?"

"I can manage," Harry said snappishly.

Ron shrugged. "Suit yourself, but don't come complaining to me when Pomfrey tears you a new one for walking on that leg without help."

"Fine," said Harry through gritted teeth and allowed Ron to help him down the stairs. His leg _was_ a little shaky but otherwise seemed almost completely healed.

Headmaster Dumbledore quickly took charge of the situation once Harry had explained his dream. He asked to see the pensieve memory and had Ron floo Remus and Moody while he looked at it. By the time he returned the office was half full of Order members, all of whom were looking between Harry and Dumbledore, waiting for some kind of explanation for the late night wake up. Many of them seemed to be rather ill and it wasn't until Tonks leaned over and whispered that they had all just taken sobering potions that he understood why. His mind flitted back to the dream. _People that happily celebrate this day, the anniversary of the night your parents died, neither realising nor caring that you have sacrificed so much for them._ Harry felt his stomach clench as he realised they'd been doing exactly that, even Remus had been celebrating the night the Dark Lord had first fallen, despite the fact that he too had lost a lot that night. Suddenly he couldn't look at any of them and spent the rest of the meeting staring at his knees.

It seemed Dumbledore was somehow able to extrapolate a rough location by using Harry's memory, so the Order quickly portkeyed there, leaving Harry and Ron to wait anxiously for their return.

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"What do you think is happening?" Ron asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

Harry, who had been staring intently at the fireplace, waiting and hoping for the flash of green that would indicate someone flooing in, couldn't find the strength to roll his eyes. "I don't know, Ron."

"Do you reckon they found the place?"

"I hope so." Harry shifted into a more comfortable position. "There had to have been over twenty muggles at that party and almost that many Death Eaters. They wouldn't have stood a chance."

"You _gave_ them a chance, mate," said Ron.

"Yeah, but was it enough?" Harry sighed.

"It was a valiant effort," Dumbledore said as the portkey deposited him in the centre of the office.

"What happened?" Harry demanded at once. "Were the Death Eaters still there? Did you catch them? Could you save the muggles?"

"We believe one or two muggles managed to escape in their cars before the Death Eaters left the house," Dumbledore said gently. "And we found two women hiding in the shelter of some nearby trees, they have, of course, been checked for injuries and then obliviated."

"And the rest of them?" Harry said, already knowing the answer.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "I am sorry, Harry. We found a large number of bodies on the scene and the dark mark was above the house. The Death Eaters and Voldemort were long gone by the time we got there."

Harry nodded. In his mind's eye he kept seeing the faces of those muggles, pleading, begging for their lives. Almost all of them were dead now. Could he have done anything else for them? Had he made any difference at all?

"Mr Weasley, will you give us a moment please, I need to speak with Harry."

Harry didn't hear Ron leave, but suddenly Dumbledore was kneeling at his side. "I know you are feeling this acutely right now, but I hope you will remember that you did everything you could and more than many would have done in your place. I am terribly proud of you, Harry. But you must strive to master Occlumency as soon as possible, for my sake if not your own."

Harry glanced up into Dumbledore's blue eyes. "But what if next time I can do more?"

"At the cost of your sanity? While it is admirable that you want to help Voldemort's victims you hurt yourself when you fail. I do not want to see you suffer needlessly. Please, Harry, work as hard as you can to protect your mind so I don't have to watch you in pain."

Harry bit his lip so hard he could taste the coppery tang of his own blood. Eventually he nodded. "I probably won't be able to do that much good now that Voldemort can see me anyway," he said, remembering the way Voldemort had seemed to look at him right at the end of the vision.

"Yes, I noticed that too," said Dumbledore. "I do not think he could truly see you so much as he could sense your presence through the connection you share. If he could set eyes on you he would have tried to curse you. But you are right; it will be more difficult for you to act now that Voldemort is aware of how it feels when you are present. He will be alert for it. I would guess that he had some perception of where your astral form was through out the vision, but he waited until he had said everything he wanted before using that to his advantage. I imagine that when you thought he was looking at you, you experienced a moment of panic and that is what caused you to awaken."

Harry dropped his head into his hands. Dumbledore was right. He had panicked in that second, enough so that upon waking he had felt as he usually did when he had a nightmare, with his heart racing and sweat beading on his skin.

Dumbledore's hand gently rubbed his back. "It has been a stressful night, but before I let you return to your bed I must talk to you about what Voldemort said."

Harry groaned but did not look up. "Do we really have to? I know it wasn't true."

"Voldemort has always been a master when it comes to playing on his victims insecurities and I do not want to see you falling into the same trap as those before you. And that is why I cannot let you leave this room until I have told you something very important."

Curiosity peaked, Harry sat back and stared at the old man at his side. "What?"

"I love you, Harry. If I had ever had grandchildren of my own I could only wish that they turn out as well as you have, with such bravery and compassion for others. Talented and intelligent too. I could not be prouder of you if you _were_ my own grandson."

Harry gulped. At the end of last year, when he revealed the prophecy, Dumbledore had as good as told him he cared for him, but to hear the actual words was one of the most amazing things he had ever felt.

"Sir... I, er..."

"You need say nothing in return," Dumbledore said with a magnanimous wave of his hand. "I merely wanted you to know how I feel."

Tentatively, as though not at all sure how the gesture would be received, Dumbledore pulled Harry into his chest and just held him. Harry tensed at first, but after a few seconds relaxed into it. He'd never been hugged like this before; Mrs. Weasley's hugs were strong and stifling, while Hermione's were brief and hesitant. This embrace most resembled Sirius' fatherly hugs, warm and comforting; Dumbledore just held him, loosely enough that he could pull away if he wanted, but Harry found himself leaning into Dumbledore's arms, prolonging the contact.

A hand gently rubbed his back. "Pay no mind to Voldemort's taunting," Dumbledore whispered. "You are loved by many and their love will be with you, always."

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By the next day Harry's leg was back to normal although Hermione hovered over him as if she expected him to keel over any second. A lot of the other girls felt the need to approach him, asking if he was alright and gazing at him with starry eyes. It seemed like everyone knew what had happened with the Quintaped and were treating him like the conquering hero. He allowed himself a brief moment to wonder what it would be like if he ever did defeat Voldemort. If it was anything like this he would probably go and hide himself away in the muggle world just to get away from the overt hero worship. Despite how hard he was trying to forget the vision of the night before Voldemort's words floated into his mind. _You're their little hero, but they'll only want you for as long as you can do something for them._

The worst of all was Romilda Vane, who approached him at breakfast. "Oh, Harry, I heard about what happened. Are you alright?" she asked in a simpering voice.

"I'm fine," Harry said with a grunt.

Romilda sat next to him and sighed heavily. "I think you were so brave, risking yourself like that for poor Demelza. If you hadn't she might have _died_."

Harry shuddered slightly at the reminder and just wished she would go away.

"Here, let me pour you a pumpkin juice," she said eagerly, grabbing the pitcher. Harry barely glanced at the glass before deciding there was no way he was touching it. Hermione had told him Romilda had purchased love potions from Fred and George's shop and he had no desire to test out the efficacy of the twins' work first hand.

Fortunately Ron and Hermione appeared just then and Romilda vanished, not wanting to provoke Ron's anger before he'd eaten. Since term began Ron had been getting increasingly waspish with her and all the other fangirls who followed Harry around.

"What did she want?" he said, falling into the seat Romilda had just vacated.

Harry was swirling the liquid in his glass to see if there was anything off. "I think she just tried to slip me some love potion."

Hermione took the glass and waved her wand over it, muttering a couple of spells. "There's definitely some kind of potion in here, but I can't tell what it is." She vanished the juice, glaring darkly up the table to where Romilda was sitting. The younger girl was looking back down the table as though waiting for something to happen. A wave of nausea swept over Harry at what she'd tried to do.

Professor Jones called him back after DADA. Hermione looked like she wanted to wait, but Harry waved her on. He was rather surprised when Jones began to cast multiple warding and silencing spells before she turned to speak to him.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to pass on a message," she told him, moving to her desk and casting some unlocking spells on the drawer.

Harry frowned. "Why didn't he just tell me last night?"

"He said that your meeting was somewhat intense and it slipped his mind," Jones said, reaching into the drawer and removing a few items; some gloves, a black ball and various other things that Harry had little interest in. Last of all she pulled out a thin leather bound book.

Harry gasped as he caught sight of the book's front cover, which was decorated by a large phoenix above two familiar runes. He'd almost forgotten about it with everything that had happened since then. "Is that...?"

Jones smiled. "Professor Dumbledore located it two days ago and sent some of the Order after it. They returned with it yesterday evening. I believe the Headmaster delayed telling you because you were in the hospital wing."

Harry lightly ran his fingers over the phoenix illustration. "Why do you have it?"

"I made quite a study of runes when I was younger," she replied, opening the book to a random page so Harry could see that the whole book was written in the same squiggly runes that were on the cover. "I'm hardly an expert, but I'm the best the Order has, so Professor Dumbledore has requested that I attempt a translation."

"Voldemort's got an expert," Harry said quietly.

Jones nodded. "And that puts us at quite a disadvantage, which is why I need your help, Harry."

Harry glanced up in surprise. "What can I do? I don't know how to read runes."

"No," Jones smiled. "But I'm going to find myself very busy from now on and the more time I can devote to translating this the better, because You-Know-Who's expert will probably be able to work on their copy of the text full time."

"I don't understand," Harry admitted. It sounded like she was asking him to take on some of her work, but that couldn't be it, could it?

"Since the beginning of the year I have been running a duelling club of sorts, designed to help students learn to defend themselves, but if I'm to translate the book sometime this year I'm going to have to give it up. My concern is that this will leave your peers defenceless if they are ever attacked. Last year you ran a group with much the same agenda and with a great deal of success. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Harry sighed. "You want me to restart the DA."

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"So are you going to do it?" Hermione asked as they walked down to Hagrid's.

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. It won't be much different than it was last year, except that it's open to everyone. Jones said that McGonagall will come along to keep control if necessary, but otherwise I'm in charge."

"I just hope Malfoy doesn't show up," Ron grumbled. "He'd love to cause trouble for you."

"Well if he does we'll just have to call Professor McGonagall and let her handle it," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "We should contact all the old member of the DA to let them know we're reconvening."

"I just hope there's not too many," Harry said distantly. He'd had enough trouble with less than thirty. Surely it wouldn't be more than that.

"Why can't Professor Jones keep on doing it?" Hermione asked curiously. "You didn't say."

Harry froze, trying to remember if this was one of those things he'd been sworn to secrecy on. He didn't think so. It didn't touch on the 'Half Blood Prince' thing or any of the other things he was keeping a secret just for himself, like the prophecy or his meeting with Malachai. "I had a vision about a book Voldemort seemed very interested in. Dumbledore managed to get a copy, but it's written in really old runes so he's got Jones translating for him."

Hermione nodded knowingly. "Yes, she's quite knowledgeable, she helped me with some of my homework the summer before fifth year."

Ron was frowning. "I don't remember you having another vision. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, there wasn't much to tell," Harry said quickly. "All that really happened was that one of the Death Eaters gave him a book and then I woke up. I told Dumbledore right away" he assured Hermione. "I guess it just didn't seem important."

The truth was that he'd gotten so used to keeping secrets from them he hadn't even thought about telling them this until now. He felt a moment of nostalgia for the days when he had always gone straight to them when he had a problem, but that wasn't an option anymore. He had to keep secrets if he was going to keep them safe.

He knocked on Hagrid's door, glad to bring the conversation to an end. From inside he could hear Fang panting and scratching at the door and Hagrid's booming voice rang out, "Outta the way Fang, yer big idiot."

The door opened and Hagrid gazed out at them. "Oh, it's yeh three. Well, come in, come in." He stepped back so they could enter and then moved directly to the sink to fill the kettle.

Hermione was giving Harry pointed looks, nodding her head furiously towards Hagrid. _What?_ he mouthed, knowing full well that she wanted him to be the one to broach the topic.

Hermione glared and cleared her throat. "Hagrid, we were wondering if you knew anything about the Quintaped. You see, they're very dangerous creatures, which is why they were trapped on the Isle of Drear. I don't understand how one could have got here. And we were wondering..."

"Aye and yer not the first ter be wonderin' either," Hagrid said grumpily as he placed the kettle on the stove. "Dumbledore was 'ere righ' after yer were attacked, asking 'bout it."

"And?" Ron pushed.

Hagrid lifted down a tin of his infamous rock cakes before answering. "I met this man, who said 'e could get a hold of one fer me – fer class. Oh, I know they're dangerous, but they're very in'erestin' and I thought the seventh years migh' enjoy it."

"Only it escaped," Harry deduced. He gingerly lifted a rock cake from the tin, the smallest one he could see and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Didn' even get ter me," Hagrid agreed. "As he were deliverin' it there was an accident. It 'et him and scarpered. I was out lookin' fer it when I heard yeh'd been attacked. Felt right awful ter hear yeh'd been hurt, Harry."

"I'm fine," Harry said hurriedly. "No harm done."

"Did they catch it?" Hermione asked. "No one told us, so we assumed... well they wouldn't have let us out today if it was still running loose."

"Aye." Hagrid bit into his own rock cake, causing Harry to flinch at the sound of teeth grinding against the rock hard cake. "Dumbledore and the other Professors was out fer hours lookin' and found it sure enough. It's bein' taken back 'ome, before I even get ter show me class." He seemed upset about it, so Harry patted his arm.

"Maybe it's for the best," Hermione said weakly. "I mean, there's a reason it's been rated a five X by the Ministry."

"Oh, Hermione, they ain't dangerous if yer show 'em who's boss," Hagrid argued. "Yer jus' need ter be firm with 'em and they'm as good as gol'."

Ron, who was poking at his rock cake with morbid fascination, looked up. "I reckon as long as it's far away from me, I'm happy."

Hagrid jumped up to make the tea and as one the three Gryffindors hurriedly stuffed their rock cakes in their bags. "So, Hagrid, how's Grawp?"

"Grawpy's doin' real well," Hagrid gushed, his earlier melancholy forgotten. "He's learnin' his lessons well. I think he migh' almost be ready ter find a lady friend."

"That's, er... great," Harry said with all the enthusiasm he could muster.

"Yeh'll have ter come visit with me sometime," Hagrid continued. "He asks about yer sometimes, Hermione."

"Really?" Hermione croaked.

"I think he migh' have a bit of a crush," said Hagrid, placing their mugs down on the table. "Who wan's another cake?"

"No thanks, Hagrid, I'm full," Ron said, patting his stomach.

Harry grinned. "The world's coming to an end."

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	14. Snakes in the Sky

Chapter 14 – Snakes in the Sky

The first week of November passed quickly, with nothing but class, Quidditch and homework to keep Harry occupied. That all changed on Saturday morning, the day of the first Quidditch match of the season.

Harry awoke slowly, feeling somewhat groggy after a night of tossing and turning. All he'd been able to think about was the match, his first as Captain and against Slytherin too. He was confident in his team's abilities, but Slytherin had never been opposed to cheating to get ahead and now Malfoy was their Captain they were likely to be even worse.

By the time he got down to breakfast his tiredness had been replaced with a bad case of nerves, which made the food Katie piled on his plate look all the more unappetising. He made a show of eating it though, knowing that if he did, with his reputation of skipping meals when nervous, would bolster the rest of the team's confidence. He affected an air of calm as he listened to the conversations around him, participating when he didn't think he would be sick as soon as he opened his mouth. Katie, seeming to know his apparent serenity was an act, patted his hand under the table and made sure his goblet of pumpkin juice was always full. Harry idly wondered where Hermione was when she'd normally be comforting him before a hard match until he saw her sitting next to Ron and whispering in his ear. He pushed away the stab of jealousy. It was only natural that Hermione would be more worried about her boyfriend than her best friend.

When everyone had finished eating Harry gathered the team and led them down to the pitch to change. Only Katie seemed relaxed, but then she was the only other person on the team who had been playing for more than a year. Ron and Ginny were looking decidedly green and Ritchie was so pale Harry wasn't sure if he'd make it onto the pitch without fainting.

By the time they had changed the stands were full of students and their chatter echoed around the locker room where the rest of the team were lining one of the benches, looking at him expectantly. It took Harry a moment to realise they were expecting some kind of pre game speech and the butterflies in his stomach began to flutter in earnest. Why hadn't he even considered this possibility? He had nothing prepared; he was going to sound like an idiot.

He cleared his throat and they sat up straight, their full attention on him. "Er... I just wanted to say that... as long as we remember that we're a team we should be able to take anything Slytherin throw at us. We've always been the better team and they know it, which is why they have to resort to dirty tactics." On seeing their resolute looks and nods of agreement he felt his confidence come back to him a little. "I have faith in all of you, now let's get out there and _win_!"

They cheered and leapt up, heading for the pitch. Harry took a deep breath and followed. The hard part was over, now all he had to do was catch the snitch.

"Nice speech," Katie said lightly, falling back to walk with him. "A bit more inspirational than Angelina's, but lacking the 'win or die' aspect of Oliver's."

Harry grinned back. "I don't know. Oliver's speeches always drove me to try my hardest."

A wall of noise hit them as they stepped onto the pitch, making further conversation impossible, not that Harry could have managed it. He knew once he was in the air he'd forget all his worries, but right now all he could think about was the fact that every Gryffindor was counting on_ his_ team to win.

The Slytherin's were already there, with Malfoy heading them, his usual smirk in place. Madame Hooch ordered them to shake hands, so Harry stepped forward reluctantly, hand outstretched.

Malfoy grasped it roughly, squeezing as hard as he could. It was all Harry could do not to flinch before he began to squeeze back. He was disappointed when Malfoy showed no visible sign of pain. They released each other and turned back to their teams, Harry resisting the urge to shake his hand to get rid of the feeling of Malfoy's grip. He wouldn't give the git the satisfaction.

Somewhere above them Dean Thomas was informing the crowd on who was playing under McGonagall's watchful eye. Harry deliberately blocked it out, his mind already focused on getting the snitch and directing his team to get as many points as possible.

In the air Katie was in charge of signalling plays as Harry needed his attention on Malfoy and the snitch, but he would still need to keep some perspective on the game in case he needed to call for a time out.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle and they kicked off. As usual Harry felt the swooping feeling of flight wash away his fears. He was in his element here, where he belonged and Malfoy didn't stand a chance.

He climbed up until his head began to feel light, then he levelled off, circling the pitch below, his eyes peeled for any flash of gold. Gryffindor had taken the Quaffle at the whistle, according to Dean, and Katie was already streaking towards the Slytherin goals.

"And Bell passes to Weasley, who... scores! And it's ten-nil to Gryffindor!"

Harry grinned. They'd taken the first points, which meant Slytherin would be on the defensive. Unfortunately when Slytherins felt threatened they tended to get underhanded. A quick glance at Malfoy showed his face was red with annoyance and to Harry's delight; his attention was more on the rest of the match than the snitch.

Harry swerved to dodge a Bludger and swept the pitch with his eyes. No sign of the snitch so far and this time Demelza was winging her way to the goals.

"So, Potter, it looks like your team isn't totally incompetent after all," Malfoy said snidely as they passed. "I'm impressed; given that you're the Captain I expected this to be an easy win."

"Given that you're the Captain I expected your team to be too busy primping themselves to actually turn up," Harry replied.

"And Weasley can't stop it, that's twenty-ten to Gryffindor."

"Looks like your Keeper's not so hot, though," Malfoy said smugly.

"We're still ahead," Harry reminded him before flying in the opposite direction. He didn't want to provide Malfoy with too easy a target.

Over the next ten minutes the Gryffindor girls had almost total control over the Quaffle, on the few occasions the Slytherins had managed to get it away from them they'd only made one more goal, but there was still no sign of the snitch and the Slytherins were beginning to revert to form. Crabbe and Goyle were swinging their Beater's bats at their opponent's legs as they flew by and the Slytherin Chaser's were taking every opportunity to plough into Demelza, as the smallest and least experienced Gryffindor player. The tactic was beginning to make her so frightened she could barely fly in a straight line and now Slytherin was getting control of the Quaffle more frequently. Harry had to catch the snitch soon or they'd lose their lead.

Madame Hooch was calling fouls when she could, but as most of them were against Demelza and she was too scared to shoot they weren't making much of a difference. Before Harry knew it the score was ninety-seventy.

Harry signalled for a time out and they landed. He waved off his team mates questions and pulled Demelza to one side.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. "I thought I could do it, but I'm a coward, I don't deserve to be in Gryffindor."

"You do," Harry insisted quietly, conscious of all the eyes on them. "Remember what we talked about in the hospital wing? You have to work through your fear, if you don't face it now you'll be scared for the rest of your life."

"Easy for you to say," Demelza retorted.

Harry sighed. "I know it's hard because I've had to do it too, but I _know_ you can do this. Just concentrate on the Quaffle and the feel of the wind in your face, let the rest of the world just fall away. There are no Slytherins up there, just you and the broom." The words were only partly his own, most of them had come from his tai chi training with Dumbledore, he'd just changed the context.

Demelza looked at him for a long moment before nodding, a new determination glinting in her eyes. "I won't let you down, Harry," she said.

Harry signalled Madame Hooch who blew her whistle as they all flew back up. Almost immediately the Slytherins began to harass Demelza, but she flew with a new confidence and they couldn't catch her.

Malfoy was tailing him closely and Harry was forced to keep a closer eye on him in case he tried something. Deciding to show him exactly what the Firebolt could do, Harry put on a burst of speed, rapidly flying to the opposite end of the pitch.

Whether he thought Harry had seen the snitch or was just following for the sake of tailing him, Malfoy pursued him as closely a he was able with his slower broom. Eager to leave Malfoy behind Harry turned his broom into a steep dive, grinning to himself when he realised that Malfoy was diving with him.

The crowd gasped and cheered, thinking they'd seen the snitch and Harry was sure Malfoy thought the same because he wasn't pulling up and Harry slowed, allowing him to get closer, so that they approached the ground at the same breakneck speed.

And Harry pulled up, knowing that if he'd left it a second later he would have flown into the ground and with an absolute certainty that Malfoy couldn't come out of the dive quickly enough to prevent being ploughed. Malfoy must have realised it at the exact same moment and desperately pulled on the handle of his broom, but he was just too late. With a scream of terror his broom handle caught on the solid ground and Malfoy was tipped head over heels. He groaned piteously as Harry began to climb back above the rest of the play. He shook his head. If there was one thing he was good at it was flying, but no matter how often he demonstrated his skill with a broom Malfoy insisted on challenging him and almost always ended up looking a fool, which is how Harry had known he wouldn't pull up until after Harry had; because he couldn't bear for everyone to see him give up and Harry receive all the praise yet again.

The Slytherins seemed dismayed at their Seeker's plight; although Harry knew he would be fine. Madame Pomfrey was checking him over, but game play continued, because only the Captain's could call for a time out; Malfoy was unable and Harry was too busy taking advantage of the situation.

What he really needed was for the snitch to appear right now, before Madame Pomfrey allowed Malfoy back on a broom. Fortunately Ginny, Katie and Demelza were scoring more rapidly now that the Slytherins were distracted and before he knew it the score was one hundred and ten-forty. If they got another eighty points it wouldn't matter if Malfoy rejoined the match or not, they'd win.

A minute or so later Malfoy was released and flew back onto the pitch. He was a bit wobbly on his broom, but otherwise unhurt. Harry was amused to note that he was now keeping his distance and staying lower to the ground.

The Gryffindor crowd cheered as Dean announced the score after Ginny scored again and that's when he saw it, the tiniest flash of gold near the ground. He didn't even think, just pointed his broom straight down and accelerated as fast as he could. He sped past Malfoy who was looking at him faintly, as if he might fall off any second. It seemed he hadn't seen what Harry had, nor was he looking in the right direction. Even if he gave chase now Harry was ahead with the faster broom. The snitch was his unless... it started to move away from him, still close to the ground, beating its tiny golden wings as fast as it could.

He had to slow down once he got close and fly parallel to the ground, chasing the elusive snitch and expecting Malfoy to be racing beside him any second, but Malfoy never appeared. A risky glance up showed Malfoy still sitting precariously fifty feet up, watching the chase, but making no move to join it.

And then Harry had it and held his fist up into the air as Dean announced, "Harry Potter has the snitch for one hundred and fifty points. That makes it two hundred and sixty-fifty to Gryffindor! Gryffindor wins!"

Harry grinned as he landed, a few seconds later the rest of the team joined him. Ron clapped him on the back proudly and Demelza gave him a huge hug. The Gryffindor stands had erupted with cheers and even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were joining in.

"Hey, mate!" Ron yelled over the noise. "You actually managed to finish a match and not get injured in the process."

Harry elbowed him in the ribs and turned to hug Ginny and then Katie as the rest of the Gryffindors made it onto the pitch, many of them still screaming their approval. Harry felt himself pulled into hug after hug between his hand being shaken and girls kissing him on the cheek. He waved to Hermione, but she only had eyes for Ron and threw herself into his arms. The crowd parted around them as they kissed.

"That is so disgusting," Ginny complained. "Who wants to watch _that_?"

"I don't know," Seamus grinned. "It's like some kind of nature study: the mating habits of Keepers and bookworms."

"Harry, you should see Malfoy's face," Dennis Creevey said happily. "The rest of his team are all having a go at him because he just sat there while you caught the snitch."

Harry craned his neck to where the Slytherin team was gathered. Sure enough Malfoy glowered in the centre of the group while they seemed to be harassing him. Strangely Harry couldn't find it in himself to be all that sorry for him.

"It was hilarious," Seamus agreed. "He seemed pretty out of it ever since that cool _Wronski feint_ you did and when you dived it was like he thought you were just trying to do it again, even when it was obvious you were after the snitch he just watched you. Wonder if he has brain damage."

"Who would know?" Dean laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Come on mate. We're going to have a killer after party."

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Harry's euphoria lasted until Monday morning when Hedwig swooped down to his place at the Gryffindor table. He'd almost given up on a reply from Petunia as it had been almost two weeks since he'd sent that letter.

It seemed Hedwig had given up too, because there was no letter attached to her leg or clutched in her claws. She seemed to give Harry an apologetic look before stealing a bit of bacon from his plate.

Harry couldn't hide the fact that he was disappointed. He had hoped that Petunia's reply would let him know one way or another if what Malachai had told him was true and he really wasn't related to her – the one part of what the elf had told him that he would have been quite happy to have confirmed. The rest he would happily dismiss, but there was still the Quintaped and what that encounter had told him and he couldn't forget that Malachai had told him he had family in the elf realm, family that actually wanted to know him and must care something about him if they had sent Malachai in the first place.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked him gently. "Did you write to someone?"

"No," Harry said, smiling to dispel her worry. "Hedwig's just come for some bacon, but I think she's cross because I haven't visited her in a while."

Hermione nodded sympathetically, reaching out to gently stroke Hedwig's feathers. "Maybe you could send a letter to Remus; I bet she'd like that. Him too."

"Yeah," Harry said absently. "The problem was that if his mum had kept all this as secret so well that not even Dumbledore knew about it then Moony wasn't likely to be much help either. Had she even told James?

"We'd best get to Defence," she said briskly, grabbing her bag. "We're meeting Ron there."

Harry followed her. If only he knew whether Petunia hadn't answered because she couldn't read the note or because she just didn't want to. For all he knew, with her aversion to Hedwig, parchment and anything else associated with the wizarding world, she hadn't even looked at it.

He took his usual seat expecting Ron to sit next to him, but Ron sent him an apologetic look and sat in front of him with Hermione. He twisted around in his seat with a sheepish grin. "Sorry mate. It's just – the girlfriend you know?"

"Its fine," Harry said, waving it off and gesturing for Neville, Hermione's usual partner, to take Ron's seat.

Class passed quickly. Harry and Hermione were both doing well with silent magic, so much so that Jones had let them try the silent duel again and this time they did much better, Harry winning only because Hermione hadn't got her shield up in time. Neither was yet up to the standard they held when speaking the spells aloud and certainly wouldn't be much of a challenge to a Death Eater if they were unable to speak, but they were proud of themselves nonetheless. Their classmates looked on enviously as they spent yet another lesson trying to cast silent jinxes at each other.

At the end of class Jones told them all to sit down and smiled widely. "I'm sure by now you've all heard the rumours that my Duelling Club has been cancelled," she began. "I can confirm to you all that this is true." A couple of groans broke out; surprising Harry as he'd thought the club had been mainly for younger students. "However, I've spoken to Mr. Potter and he has agreed to resume his own club from last year – Dumbledore's Army."

There was silence for a moment, except for Hermione and Ron – who had already known and began clapping – before the rest of the class joined in, shooting comments at Harry, like, "fantastic, I've been hoping you'd start it again," and "Harry, can I join?"

Jones gestured for Harry to say something so he rose and faced the rest of the class, silently thanking Jones for warning him about this beforehand.

"The first meeting's Friday night at seven in the Great Hall," he said, his voice getting steadier as he spoke. "Everybody's welcome-"

"Even Slytherins?"

Harry grinned. "Like I said, _anyone_'s welcome. Professor McGonagall has agreed to drop by to make sure no one makes trouble. This is a serious club so if you think we'll just be playing games then you're better off not coming, but I really hope you will because this stuff is important." He sat down heavily, glad that was over. He hated speaking in front of groups and it would only be worse on Friday. Not for the first time he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

Jones cleared her throat to stop the excited whispering. "Well that's it then, I'll just remind you all that Mr. Potter is generously giving up his time to help you all out and ask that you not waste this opportunity for frivolous reasons." Her gaze lingered on Lavender and Parvati who had been giggling about something. "Now off you go," she said gesturing to the door.

As they packed up their things Harry found himself surrounded by his classmates who were eager to inundate him with questions. Seamus seemed concerned he would be behind because he'd only gone to one meeting the year before, but Harry assured him he'd be starting at the beginning for any newcomers. Neville didn't speak, but shook Harry's hand firmly, a huge smile plastered over his face, while Lavender kept asking if they would be able to work on their 'pretty Patronus charms.' Harry bore it with as much fortitude as he could, while Ron and Hermione kept trying to remind everyone that they were supposed to be going to their next class.

It was Dean that reminded Harry of something he hadn't even thought of. "Harry, are you sure about letting _every_one in. I mean, what if Malfoy tries to come, or that Marietta Edgecombe. We can't trust her."

Harry shouldered his bag and led the way out of the classroom. "I doubt Malfoy will come to anything I'm in charge of, especially when he hears McGonagall will be there."

"And Marietta the sneak?" Dean prodded.

"Things are different than last year," Harry sighed. "We're not doing this in secret and she can't hurt us. She deserves a chance to learn to defend herself as much as anyone else. If she comes I won't turn her away. Not that I'm going to be telling her my deepest, darkest secrets either."

"That's a very mature attitude," Hermione commended him as Dean nodded and walked away.

Harry smirked at her. "Of course, I'm a very mature person."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Hermione shot back.

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By the time Friday rolled round Harry was so nervous he barely paid attention in class. All he could think about was the coming meeting. What if no one came? What if they all thought he was an idiot with a hero complex and walked out half way through? And McGonagall would be watching at least part of it, he couldn't imagine trying to lead a group with her watching over his shoulder, he'd probably make an idiot of himself and she'd have to take over.

Finally the evening came, and Harry, his stomach tying itself in knots by now, was unable to eat a bite. He hadn't wanted to use the Great Hall as a venue, thinking it too large, but Jones had insisted that it was the best place if he had a lot of people turn up and as dinner ended and there was very little movement in the Hall he was beginning to wonder if maybe she was right. What would he do if the whole school stayed? There was no way he could handle that many.

Professor Dumbledore and the other teachers began making their way out of the main entrance. Harry was dismayed to see that many of the Slytherins, including Malfoy, had stayed, but when McGonagall didn't move and just settled herself more comfortably in her chair they began a heated conversation that Harry would have done anything to overhear.

Seven rolled round and Harry stood reluctantly, knowing he couldn't delay any further, but before he could begin McGonagall rose and joined him.

"A few words before Mr. Potter begins," she said, eyeing the room sternly. "There are certain standards of behaviour I expect in class and I will hold you to them here as well. It does not matter that Mr. Potter is the same age as you, or younger in some cases, in these sessions you will treat him with the same respect as you would a Professor, or you will be banned from attending. Mr Filch has also been kind enough to donate his own time to anyone I – or Mr. Potter – feel deserves a detention. I believe he has all sorts of activities planned, such as cleaning the bathrooms without magic, so bear that in mind before you start making unnecessary problems." Her steely gaze swept the room, landing briefly on Malfoy who was scowling; obviously realising he wouldn't be able to do the majority of what he was planning with McGonagall present. "If you feel you cannot behave over the course of the next hour I will remind you that this is not necessary and you are free to leave at anytime. With that said, I will hand over to Mr. Potter."

Harry, who had found himself reddening slightly at the beginning of her speech, gulped. With some effort he managed to square his shoulders and look up at the students sitting around the Great Hall. There were very few empty seats and an awful lot of faces staring at him expectantly.

"Right, er... as there are a lot more people here than I expected we're going to have to break into smaller groups. We'll start with some simple spells so that I can see where you are and we'll move on from there. Everyone find a partner and find a clear space. We're going to be practising the disarming spell."

He waited while they did as he asked, some with more grumbling than others. He noticed that while the first, second and third years seemed quite content with the lesson many of the older years, excluding the old DA members, were grumbling at the simplicity of the spell. Malfoy in particular was rolling his eyes as he paired off with Blaise Zabini and said something that made the taller boy laugh.

When they were finally settled Harry asked Neville to join him and quickly demonstrated the spell. "Take it in turns to disarm your partner. Don't use any other spell. Professor McGonagall and I will be walking around to see if you need any help."

They began casting spells almost immediately while Harry and McGonagall took opposite ends of the room. By silent agreement McGonagall took the side where most of the Slytherins were practising.

Harry was proud to see that the old DA members were not only miles ahead of everyone else, but many were partnering younger students to help them out. He subtly walked around Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe, even if they'd been doing the spell wrong Harry still didn't think he was ready to talk to either of them just yet, if he ever would be.

The first years were eager, if nothing else and Harry spent a few moments with each of them, making sure they could do the spell perfectly.

As he came back to his starting point he came to the conclusion that there were just too many people, all of varying skill levels to be able to teach them all at once. They'd never get anywhere if the better students were complaining because those that weren't as strong were holding them back.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall exclaimed. "Please explain to me why you are using the stunning spell when you were told specifically only to disarm your opponent."

Malfoy shrugged and turned to sneer at Harry. "I just don't see why we're spending so much time on a spell that any second year could do."

"You will follow the instructions that Mr. Potter sets out for you, or you will leave," McGonagall said firmly. Harry felt a rush of gratitude at her support. He just knew Malfoy would have been ten times worse without her here.

"That's just it," Malfoy said resentfully. "Why is Potter giving _anyone _instructions? What gives him the authority to lead this group? It should be someone who actually knows what they're doing, if Professor Jones can't do it, then Professor Snape would, he's an excellent duellist."

Harry remembered the first meeting of the original DA. Zacharias Smith had made a similar demand for Harry to prove he could teach them and when McGonagall turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly, Harry knew he'd have to handle this challenge much better than he had the last one, by staying calm and not letting himself be goaded into reacting angrily otherwise he'd lose he rest of them too.

"I don't need to prove anything to you," Harry said stiffly. "The Professors have decided I'm capable of teaching this club, but if you don't want to learn from me you can leave, I won't stop you."

"Well said Mr. Potter," McGonagall said approvingly. "Well Mr. Malfoy, what's it to be?"

Malfoy glared at Harry. "Come on," he said to Blaise. "I don't think there's any reason for us to stay here, we'll seek out an instructor who knows a little more about the subject." He turned and stalked out of the Hall, many of the older Slytherins on his heels.

"That's detention with Filch tomorrow at eight for your disrespect to Mr. Potter," McGonagall called after him.

"At least the younger Slytherins stayed," Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Yeah, but wait until Malfoy gets his hands on them," Ron said darkly. "I bet they won't turn up next time."

The Hall was filled with muttering after Malfoy's exit and Harry knew he had to quieten them down quickly or they'd be talking about it all night. He raised his wand and whispered, "_Barba_," and a shrill whistling noise erupted from the tip of his wand.

"OK, you're doing really well," he said loudly once everyone was looking at him. "Now we'll move onto the Impediment Jinx."

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	15. The Secret Study Room

Chapter 15 – The Secret Study Room

November passed slowly for Harry even though he was busier than ever with classes, Quidditch practise and now the DA. After a long talk with McGonagall he decided that the DA was simply too big, even without any of the older Slytherins and so they split it into three groups, advanced, intermediate and beginner, to prevent younger students from struggling to keep up with the older ones. The advanced group mostly consisted of last years DA members along with a few sixth and seventh years who had a natural aptitude that Umbridge hadn't managed to erase last year. Although this arrangement prevented those skilled in DADA from being held back it meant more work for Harry.

It was just as well that he had all these things to take up his time, because Ron and Hermione were spending more and more of theirs alone. The three of them still went to class together and studied in the Room of Requirement, but the new couple would often find excuses to sneak off somewhere together, probably to snog although Harry tried not to contemplate that if he could help it. He tried not to resent this time alone, but it was hard.

It wasn't like he could even go to the common room; with all those girls hanging around staring at him and the guys weren't much better. Of all of them he only really felt comfortable around Neville, Seamus and Dean, the rest of them were enamoured with his fame, or kept asking him about Voldemort (not that they said the name) and that was not how he wanted to spend his free time.

It left him a lot of time to think and his DA plans were weeks ahead, but he couldn't help but feel a little lonely. He desperately missed the closeness he usually shared with Ron and Hermione and he knew he was partly to blame for allowing it to fade. If only he'd been a bit more open with them, he had just been keeping so many secrets and only one of them at Dumbledore's behest, but it was too late for him to come clean now. The time for sharing had passed and now he'd just have to live with the results.

It seemed a lot of his teachers had noticed his subdued attitude. Twice, McGonagall had asked him if he'd like to talk after DA sessions, but he'd turned her down and now here he was, at the end of November, sitting opposite Dumbledore who was gazing at him with a sympathetic look in his twinkling blue eyes.

"I'm fine, really," Harry insisted for the third time. "It's nothing."

Dumbledore continued to stare at him.

"Are we going to practise Occlumency?" Harry asked, hoping to change the subject.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Not just yet, Harry. I want us to talk for a few minutes first. I can tell something is bothering you, some of your teachers have told me you are despondent and unusually quiet in class and I must confess to feeling some concern. Have you fallen out with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?"

"Of course not," Harry shrugged. "We're still friends."

"But the bitterness in your tone suggests that there are problems between you," Dumbledore commented.

Harry sighed and leaned back. "I'm not bitter. Or jealous, no matter what Seamus says. I just wish..." he huffed. It sounded so stupid when he came to say it aloud. "It's like they've forgotten about me, ever since they got together. I'm happy for them, honestly."

"Have you tried talking to them about this?"

Harry could have laughed. As difficult as it was to talk to Dumbledore about this it would be harder still to broach the topic with his friends. He shook his head.

"Maybe you should consider it. It is likely they do not even realise they are hurting you and they won't until you tell them how you are feeling."

"I couldn't," Harry said forcefully. "They'd think I was an idiot. Ron would laugh at me."

It was Dumbledore's turn to sigh. "Sometimes I forget how very young you are."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"No, no, that was not a reprimand," Dumbledore assured him. "I know it is hard for you right now, but this situation will not last forever. They are young and in the beginnings of their first romance. They have eyes only for each other, but eventually they will come back to themselves when the novelty of their relationship wears off. Then you will remember that they are your true friends and love you. I believe you yourself engaged in a brief affair with Miss Chang of Ravenclaw last year. Did you not then give more of your attention to her than your friends?"

Harry thought about it, but honestly he didn't think he had. Apart from that one Hogsmeade trip he'd spent as much time with them as ever and even that day he'd ended his date with Cho prematurely so he could meet Hermione. He'd still put them first, but then he and Cho hadn't meant as much to each other as Ron and Hermione did. Maybe Dumbledore was right and things would return to normal eventually, but it still hurt in the meantime.

He shrugged again, unable to put his thoughts into coherent words. "I've been practising _visualising_ the shield in my mind," he said instead. "I think I've got it, but it's probably not that strong yet. You're right; it _is_ easier than some of the other methods."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, observing Harry thoughtfully, but allowing him to change the course of the conversation. "And why do you think that is?"

Harry frowned in thought. "It's helps when you can imagine an actual solid object protecting you rather than an abstract idea, like the endless beach or the clouds. I guess it just seems like it would be harder to break through something like metal than it is to banish an idea."

"Very good. You are a very straightforward young man and so find it easier to pour all your strength into maintaining a simple object. For someone like myself, who makes no attempt to hide his eccentricities, the beach is a more entertaining way of confusing an intruder, making them lose themselves until they can be forced out. It is your own personality which determines the method you find works best for you."

"I guess it's easier if you've actually seen a beach," Harry muttered. He remembered imagining once that Dumbledore spent his holidays on tropical beaches. Even though he knew the Headmaster better now it still didn't seem like a ridiculous idea.

"Ah, but that is only a means to an end. You do the same thing with the clouds, or a forest. The idea is not to show your attacker an obvious exit, but to leave them wandering until you are able to repel them," Dumbledore explained.

Harry nodded. He had to admit that Dumbledore was an able teacher, with patience that a saint would envy. He didn't mind explaining a concept over and over again until his student completely understood, long past the point any other person would have begun screaming in frustration.

"Continue to build your shield in your mind," Dumbledore continued. "I will test it before you leave, but first I want you to consider another use of Occlumency. We have discussed trapping someone within your mind and general shields and you have progressed well."

Harry frowned. "What else is there? I thought the idea was to keep people out."

"To begin with, yes," Dumbledore nodded. "But Professor Snape has another use for it."

"Lying to Voldemort," Harry blurted as understanding struck him.

"Exactly. Sometimes it is not prudent to divulge your ability to shield your own mind. It may be more advisable to use misdirection instead."

"How does that work?" Harry felt a thrill at the idea, but immediately pushed it back. It wasn't right to be excited at the prospect of being able to lie to Snape and get away with it. Besides Dumbledore would probably tell him about the new skill and the bat-like Professor would assume he was lying all the time.

"It is a difficult skill that we will discuss in more detail next time," Dumbledore promised. "In the meantime I will give you a pass to the Restricted Section and the title of a book I think might assist you with the subject." He handed over a slip of parchment that Harry quickly glanced at before tucking it away in a pocket. "Now I will test this shield of yours and then it's time for bed."

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Harry entered the library early the next morning. As it was a Saturday nearly everyone was still in bed and only Madam Pince was there to glance up at him as he dropped Dumbledore's note on her desk. He was glad; he had no desire to be in a library filled with girls who seemed to think he wanted them spying on him.

She picked it up and read it wordlessly, before nodding and gesturing for him to stay where he was as she retrieved the book. She returned a moment later and placed it gently on the desk.

It was old and slightly shabby. The binding was broken in several places and some of the pages looked loose. No doubt Hermione would have a fit when she saw it.

"Thanks," he muttered and picked it up, tucking it beneath his arm. He would take it to the Room of Requirement where he would be able to study it in peace.

"Where are you going?" Pince hissed and Harry stopped abruptly. Even in his surprise that she was speaking so harshly he was amused that she still kept her voice hushed tones, despite the fact there was no one else to disturb.

"Back to the common room," he lied just in case any of those girls _were_ here. He didn't want them knowing about the only place he could completely hide from the world.

"Not with that book you won't," she replied, still in that angry, quiet hiss. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would have told you that it is one of only three copies left in the world and as such is extremely valuable." She sniffed and gave him an appraising look, as if judging his worthiness to be anywhere near such an important tome. "I won't have it leaving the library where you'll no doubt spill food on it and lose pages. No, you'll have to read it here."

"Oh." Harry frowned, but didn't argue. The librarian was notorious for not being swayed by any student's pleas and he somehow doubted he would be the first to get around her. "OK." He obediently took the seat furthest from the door, hoping he would remain undisturbed for longer there and opened the book. By the size of it he would be reading for days and he didn't relish the idea of all that time under Pince's careful eye at all.

He began to read with a sigh. The book was aptly titled _Tactics of the Mind_ and was written in a light tone that Harry found easy to understand. It was no surprise that Dumbledore had recommended this particular text as it was easily the most understandable one he'd seen on the subject, he only wished Snape could have told him about it last year; it would have made things much easier.

It touched on some of the relaxation techniques he'd learnt before going into detail on different methods of _Occlumency_. Harry skipped the chapters that he'd already worked on and didn't even look at the ones on _Legillimency_ and went straight to the ones he thought Dumbledore had wanted him to see; the ones talking about misdirection of a_ Legillimens_.

As with anything to do with the mind arts there was more than one way of doing it, the simplest of which was picturing firmly what you wanted an attacker to believe, but that meant knowing what they were looking for. It would work in simple cases when you wanted to lie to a _Legillimens:_ you just formed a picture that agreed with whatever you were saying, but when they were within the mind, searching for a truth and you had no idea what it was, that's when things got more difficult. On top of that the author seemed to think it was necessary to control the physical signs of lying, such as an increased heart rate and sweating, because even if externally some of those signs were undetectable without spells in place, from within one's own mind they were all too obvious.

Harry startled when someone sat in the seat opposite him. He hadn't heard anyone enter the library since he had sat down almost an hour before. He didn't look up. If it was Ron or Hermione he _wanted_ them to know he was irritated with them.

"Hi Harry," said a girl's voice he didn't recognise.

"Hi," Harry muttered. He kept his head down for a different reason now; hoping whoever it was would realise he was busy and just go away.

"What are you reading?"

"A book," he ground out. Why wouldn't she get the message?

"Oh. What's it about?"

Harry sighed and glanced up. He had to hide a surprised gasp with a cough when he realised the girl, who was probably a fourth year, was also a Slytherin. He'd been expecting a Gryffindor, maybe even a Hufflepuff, but not a Slytherin.

"What do you want?"

She smiled sweetly, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder. "I just thought you might want someone to talk to, since you're sitting here _all alone_."

"Somehow I doubt Madam Pince will let us sit and have a chat in her library," Harry said dismissively and turned back to his book. That should do it, he thought, expecting her to leave at any moment.

"Oh, don't worry about that old Grindylow," the Slytherin said. "She can't actually do anything except ban us from the library."

Harry's teeth were grinding against each other. "I happen to _need_ access to the library."

"Fine," the girl shrugged and Harry relaxed. Finally. "We could go for a walk. Just you and me."

This time when Harry looked up it was with a much softer expression. If she was going to this much trouble to get him alone maybe she had an ulterior motive. Could this be Malachai's daughter at last? What if this was how she chose to reveal herself? Maybe it was all just a plot to get him alone somewhere no one would see them so she could confess. Should he agree?

"Or if it will make you more comfortable my friends could join us," she continued on and the distant giggling began. Harry sighed. It was almost a surprise they had managed to hold it in this long. At least that answered the question about his going with her. There was no way Malachai's daughter would spend so much time keeping her identity a secret just to blurt it out in front of all her friends now and there was no way a secret that big could be kept in Hogwarts for this long by more than one person.

"No thank you. I've got a lot of work to do, so if you don't mind..."

And _still_ she didn't get the hint. "Come on, it could be fun. A bunch of friends just hanging around... maybe out on the grounds somewhere... you could bring the book if you really want to."

Harry braced his hands on the table and said in as calm a voice as he could muster, "Look, I really appreciate the offer, but this is important, so if you'd just leave me alone I can get it done."

"How about some other time?"

Harry dropped his head into one hand and suppressed the urge to groan. Fortunately he was saved from having to reply by the timely arrival of Pince.

"You are making entirely too much noise," she hissed. "You may not care, but there are other students here who actually want to learn and if you can't behave responsibly then I will have to ask you to leave."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Please, Madam Pince, I really need to finish this book. I promise I won't say another word."

The Slytherin girl snorted and stood up. "Forget about it, Harry. We'll just go somewhere else. Come on."

Harry stared at her, completely befuddled as excited whispers reached their ears.

"I see," Pince said, glancing between the two. "Miss Baxter, I believe it _is_ time for you to leave. Mr. Potter, stay here." She stalked off and was lost among the shelves.

The Slytherin smiled at Harry beguilingly, as if trying to tempt him into following and then sauntered off, swinging her hips and glancing back to see if he was watching.

Harry could hear footsteps running towards the exit and then three girls emerged being chased by their own book bags that were snarling and snapping at them as if they had teeth.

Pince returned a moment later looking much calmer. "Come with me, Mr. Potter."

Harry clenched his jaw as he collected his things. He was getting kicked out and he hadn't even done anything.

But Pince wasn't leading him out to the corridor. Instead she was heading to her office and Harry had to scramble to catch up with her.

"I didn't want to do this, it's not my way to show favouritism, but there's no other way. Your presence in my library is simply too disruptive."

"I'm really sorry, Madam Pince," Harry said as sincerely as he could. "If I could stop them doing that I would. I've been working... elsewhere and letting Hermione get any books I need, but she was... well I _think _she was still asleep, or maybe she was with Ron, I have no idea. And you wanted me to read it here anyway. Please don't kick me out." Harry had never been much of a babbler. Usually when he was in trouble he went silent, excuses – no matter how valid – had never worked on the Dursleys after all, but he knew if she decided it was too much hassle to have him here he'd begin to fall behind in his classes, especially with Hermione being so distracted lately. He couldn't bear the thought of being banned from the library, just one more thing that made him different to all the other students around him.

Pince smiled – actually smiled – and Harry tried to relax. "I'm not going to kick you out, but I am going to have to take measures to stop this sort of thing from happening again, it's distracting for you as well as the other students. Therefore I am going to trust you with one of the ancient secrets of the castle. Have you ever been disillusioned before?"

Harry blinked at the apparent change in topic. "Yeah."

"Good. I will perform the spell on you then leave the office. I want you to follow me, drawing as little attention to yourself as possible. Pay attention to everything I do so you can repeat it on your own next time."

Harry nodded, his curiosity now peaked. What could she be about to show him in the _library _of all places that could require this level of secrecy?

Pince tapped her wand on his head and he immediately felt a sensation like water running down the back of his neck. A quick glance at his hand showed that the charm had worked and he was now almost see-through. Anyone who happened to look his way _might_ see him if he moved too quickly, the charm was by no means as good as an invisibility cloak, but it should do the job of getting him through the almost empty library undetected. If whatever it was Pince wanted to show him was worth it he could always use the cloak next time. At least the charm was strong enough it covered his bag and the book he was still lugging around.

She led him out the door and into the main library, stopping only long enough for her to grab a stack of books to make it look like she was merely returning them to their shelves. They went past the study area where two second year boys sat whispering to one another and threaded their way through the bookshelves. Harry kept a careful eye out as they went just in case there was anyone lurking, but they passed through unseen until they reached the far wall of the library.

Harry glanced up at Pince, wondering what it was she was showing him on a stretch of seemingly normal brick wall adorned only by a large painting of the Hogwarts crest – a lion, snake, eagle and badger surrounding the letter 'H.'

She tapped the very centre of the painting with her wand and muttered a short phrase which Harry thought was Latin. The eyes of the four totem animals briefly shone the colours of the four houses and the painting moved silently to the right. Harry blinked in surprise. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected, but it certainly wasn't more unbroken brick wall.

Pince seemed unconcerned. She stepped forward, glancing around to make sure they weren't being watched and laid a hand on the revealed brick and Harry stifled a gasp as the hand passed through the wall. It must be just like the barrier at King's Cross.

Sure enough Pince pulled herself through the invisible opening, disappearing instantly. There had to be some kind of hidden room on the other side, but Harry was sure the Marauder's Map didn't have a room marked here. He felt a thrill of excitement at discovering something his father and Sirius, with all their knowledge of the castle, hadn't known about, before hurriedly following Pince through before the painting moved back.

On the other side was a short passage ending in a wooden door, which Pince had already stepped through. Harry took a moment to glance back and saw that from this side the wall was completely transparent and he could easily see back into the library. That would be useful when it came time to leave.

He turned and entered the room beyond the door. It was a rather plain room with no windows and only the one door they had come in by. The floor was wooden and echoed slightly as he walked across it to the large table that dominated the room. Upon it sat a small stack of books.

"What is this place?" Harry asked with interest.

"A study room," Pince said in an off-hand way. "There were several of them once, across the school, but they've been converted into offices and extra classrooms since then. Only the Headmaster and I know about this one. You should be able to study here in peace for as long as you want."

Harry stared at her. It would be nice to have somewhere to work quietly that wasn't as far from the library as the Room of Requirement. "What if I need to get books? Someone might see me if I'm coming and going a lot and I can't check them out if I'm invisible."

"That's all taken care of," Pince assured him. "The books on the table are anthologies of the entire library collection."

"What does that mean?"

Pince sighed. "Each book is connected to every book in the main library. In a way you could say that they _contain_ the library. In an unused state they have all the book titles and a brief blurb describing the contents of each book. Once you have decided on one you want to read you merely tap the title with your wand and the book _becomes_ that text."

Harry gaped. That really would be useful and would ensure he could work completely undisturbed and with as much freedom as any other student could in the main library. "Thank you."

Pince's lips twitched. "It's hard on you, I understand that. You never provoked this attention and there is no reason you should be penalised for it. I considered offering this room to young Mr. Krum when he was visiting two years ago, but he courted the attention and was taught to deal with it. It's a shame you've never had anyone to advise you in that way."

Harry looked away, embarrassed. If his parents had lived that would have been their responsibility. Of course if they had lived unwanted fame wouldn't be something Harry would have to deal with anyway.

Madam Pince seemed to sense his discomfort. "I'll leave you alone to study. The password is '_Ego peto scientia.' _It means 'I seek knowledge.' I trust you'll use this wisely. I should return before unruly children start demolishing my library."

She didn't wait for his response and swept back through the door, taking the Occlumency book with her. A moment later she was completely gone and Harry sank down into one of the chairs. He knew he should return to his book but he really wanted to get a look at the anthologies.

They worked exactly as Pince had said they would and with a little practise Harry found he could browse book titles by subject as well as author. Hermione would love this.

He paused and thought about that. Usually his first reaction in this kind of situation would be to run and tell his two best friends about it, but with their current estrangement he was finding it hard to work out why he _should_. Certainly Hermione would be thrilled with the room and the anthologies and Ron would be excited at learning a new secret of the castle, but that didn't mean he had to tell them and it would be nice to have this just for himself. After all, Ron and Hermione could spend as much time in the library as they liked and not have to worry about fan girls giggling at them. They had each other, surely he was allowed _this_.

With a sigh Harry found _Tactics of the Mind_ in the anthology and went back to his reading.

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	16. Malachai's Daughter

Chapter 16 – Malachai's Daughter

As November passed into December Harry was beginning to feel like he was living on a different planet, one where he spent all his time working, going to class or playing Quidditch.

The match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was a fairly amicable game in which both teams appeared fairly well matched. Ravenclaw got the snitch, thanks to an impressive move by their seeker Cho Chang, but Hufflepuff's chasers were better, meaning that Ravenclaw only won by twenty points.

Harry had several more dreams despite his progress in Occlumency, both from his own point of view and Voldemort's. Every time he appeared as himself in a dream Voldemort would smile knowingly, but never made an effort to speak to him after that first time. Instead he would take the opportunity to step up the torture of his victims and made sure no important information was revealed. Harry would awaken each time this happened only to vomit in the bucket he had taken to placing at his bedside. He was quickly realising that the value of these dreams – when he could not count on anything he learned as being true and when there were no opportunities to save anyone – was negligible at best and made a considerable effort to step up his Occlumency practise, both in and out of his sessions with Dumbledore, in hopes of making the visions stop. On the other hand it seemed Voldemort was still unaware of his presence during those _deeper_ visions when he saw through the Dark Lord's eyes.

By the second week of December the castle had been entirely decked out for Christmas. Icicles ran the length of the banisters and Hagrid had dragged in the usual twelve Christmas trees to sit in the Great Hall. Personally Harry thought it was all rather a waste as nearly everyone seemed to be going home this year.

Everyone except Harry. Even though Ron had invited him to spend the holiday with his family at the Burrow Harry had been more than reluctant, especially when he discovered Hermione was staying with them too. He had no desire to spend Christmas watching the two of them practically ignore him. If it weren't for his still slightly strained relationship with Ginny he might have been tempted, but he had a feeling he would have a better time if he stayed here all alone with the one or two people whose parents weren't panicking over the war and demanding they come home for as long as possible.

So when McGonagall had brought round the sign up sheet Harry had put his name on it. Ron had seemed disappointed and Harry almost regretted his decision, until Hermione came back from Arithmancy and they abandoned him yet again to snog in a cupboard somewhere. He was trying not to blame them, he really was, but they made it so_ difficult_ sometimes.

It wasn't so bad whenever Harry was alone with one or the other; they talked as normal and got their work done. The problems started whenever Ron and Hermione were in the same room. It was like the rest of the world had disappeared and it didn't matter that Harry had been speaking to Hermione minutes before, as soon as Ron showed up he seemed to turn invisible and the two would seemingly lose themselves staring into each others eyes until Harry got so uncomfortable he left the room.

Which was why Hermione didn't confront Harry about his decision to remain behind until they were in the middle of Potions class. She couldn't speak to him as she was busy working on her own potion with Ernie, while Harry was in the row ahead of her with Greengrass, so she sent him notes instead.

He opened the first one while Greengrass was stirring their potion. _Why aren't you staying with the Weasleys for Christmas?_

Harry glanced up to make sure Snape wasn't watching him and scribbled underneath, _Dumbledore thinks it's a good opportunity to get lots of Occlumency practise in while I'm not busy with other classes._ In a way he was glad he could tell her like this. He was aware that he wasn't a very good liar and Hermione in particular could see right through him. With as casual a motion as he could manage he reached back and dropped the note on Hermione's desk. He wasn't worried about Ernie telling on them, or Greengrass either for that matter, she seemed to be more interested in ignoring him unless they needed to talk about something for a potion.

He tried to drown out Ernie's droning voice and concentrate on the ingredients before him. As quiet as Greengrass was she was far better than listening to Ernie lecture on the correct way to stir a potion. Snape glared at him as he stalked past and Harry hurriedly picked up his knife to crush the tiny fish-like eggs before him.

There was a poke to his shoulder and another note drifted onto his lap written on the back of the first. _It won't be the same without you._

Harry frowned at that. He doubted she'd even notice he wasn't there.

"Potter, is there a reason you're looking at your potion as if it has sprouted tentacles?" Snape said with a sneer.

Harry glanced up, discretely crumpling the note in his hand. "No, sir."

"Hmm," Snape marched over and glared into their cauldron. "It appears correct. Ten points from Gryffindor for not doing your share of the work and twenty to Slytherin for Miss Greengrass having to put up with it."

Harry scowled, but kept his face down so Snape wouldn't see as he went on to look at Hermione and Ernie's potion.

"That was so unfair," Hermione objected as soon as they had left the classroom. "If he actually watched what goes on in his classroom as closely as he should he would know that you work just as hard as Greengrass."

Harry shrugged. He was used to Snape being a biased git by now. "He knows, but he doesn't care. It's just an excuse to have a go at me and take points at the same time."

"That doesn't mean he should get away with it," Hermione insisted. "And what about you? Are you really staying behind just to practise you-know-what?" She lowered her voice on the last word, just in case someone was listening in.

Harry made sure his features were completely open as he looked up at her. "Honestly, Hermione. I really wish I could come with you guys, but I need to master this." It wasn't entirely a lie. Harry still remembered Dumbledore's words after his Halloween vision and could picture the saddened look in his eye as he begged Harry to practise Occlumency for his sake.

Hermione's eyes softened. "I know. I think we'd all feel better knowing you were... protected like that. It just doesn't seem fair that you have to miss out on something _again_."

Harry schooled his face into what he hoped was a regretful expression. "There's always next year."

"I suppose." He only hoped that by then the honeymoon would be over and they'd be able to remember he even existed when they were together.

Fortunately it seemed as if everyone believed his reasons for staying – everyone except Ginny. When she heard that he would not be returning to the Burrow and the reasons why, she smiled at him sympathetically and rolled her eyes towards Ron and Hermione, a question in her eyes.

Harry half shrugged in response. He didn't mind Ginny knowing, as long as she didn't tell everyone and she'd been loud enough in voicing her own annoyance with the new couple that Harry didn't think she would.

Harry also found he was glad he hadn't revealed the study room to Ron and Hermione. At least when he went there he could pretend that it was his choice to sit alone and study and he liked the idea of it being his own private space. Pince left him alone, even if he stayed well into the night, past the time when everyone else was supposed to be in bed.

The day the rest of the school went home was cold and frosty with white skies threatening snow. Hermione was fretting interminably about the weather, while Ron just whinged that it was too cold to go out.

Harry saw them off, but forced himself not to stand and wave forlornly as their carriage began to move off. He'd had worse Christmases than this with the Dursleys, at least here he knew he would get to eat as much as he liked and his friends had promised to send on his presents. It might be lonely, but he had to remember that it was better than _that _alternative.

For the first time he wondered if he was being a little childish. Ron and Hermione didn't mean to cut him out and the rest of the Weasleys would make sure he had a good time. But then he thought about it and knew he would have just felt in the way and that in turn would have made him miserable. However much he might wish it the Weasleys were not his family. Why should they have to put up with him when Ron obviously preferred Hermione's company.

"Feeling sorry for yourself Potter?" Malfoy's voice sneered at him. "I suppose you're allowed. After all, your own family doesn't want you and you can't even pay the _Weasels_ to take you in and they're so desperate for galleons they send their kids out to work with dragons and goblins just to make ends meet. And it seems even the mudblood prefers the company of your sidekick to you."

Harry clenched his teeth, refusing to allow Malfoy to know he'd struck a nerve, especially with that last comment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" Malfoy said mockingly. "Seems to me that while I'm at home with my doting parents, being waited on by the house elves and being spoilt with presents you'll be here, all alone. Poor little golden boy with only the teachers to talk to."

Harry scowled. "I'd rather be here alone than anywhere near your _family_. Will Voldemort be stopping by? I bet you're looking forward to the opportunity to lick his shoes."

Malfoy's cheeks reddened and his eyes narrowed. "You're very brave Potter, but you should watch that mouth of yours. One day someone might decide to shut you up permanently."

"Many have tried Malfoy," Harry taunted. "What makes you think you'll succeed where they failed?"

Malfoy took two steps closer. "You think you're so clever, don't you Potter? If I had the time I'd wipe that smirk off your face... but _I _have people waiting for me."

Harry's hand clenched around the wand in his pocket, not wanting to give any visible sign to the Slytherin that those words had gotten to him. It was a great effort not to draw it and fire a hex as Malfoy tossed his head and climbed in the carriage waiting for him.

Harry glanced about. All around him people were chattering excitedly about their Christmas plans as they climbed into the carriages. A steady stream of them was already trundling towards the gates, the one he'd seen his friends climb into amongst them, but he refused to look as he walked up the steps. He was so busy _not_ looking that he ran right into Ginny. It seemed this wasn't his day for easy conversations.

"Sorry," he said, quickly helping her up. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Ginny hefted her bag back onto her shoulders. "It's alright, no harm done." She was looking at him appraisingly. "You're sure you want to stay here for Christmas? I doubt it will be much fun with so few staying."

Harry shrugged. "Nah, but it's important if I'm ever going to learn..."

Ginny was glaring at him. "Don't give me that, Harry. I'm not stupid. If this is because of what happened over the summer then you can relax. I'm not going to ask you out again and you shouldn't have to stay here just because you're worried you might have to be alone with me."

"I..." Harry almost laughed but realised that wouldn't go over well and he'd heard wonderful yet scary things about Ginny's bat-bogey hex. "That's not why I'm staying."

"Then why?" Ginny demanded. "I know it's not for... what you said it was, because you could have done that from the Burrow. Dumbledore wouldn't have asked you to give up your Christmas just for that."

Harry was a little taken aback by how abrupt she was being, after months of avoiding eye contact with him. "Er..."

"Well, if it's not_ me_ and you haven't spoken to any of the rest of my family since summer, then it must be my darling brother Ron and his _girlfriend_. They're being all lovey dovey and it makes you as sick as it does me. Don't let them ruin everything for you. I'll tell you what, come home with me and I'll talk to them-"

"No!" Harry said desperately. "They're just excited because their relationship is so new. Things will calm down and everything will go back to normal."

Ginny sighed heavily. "I hate to be the voice of mum here, but you do realise that you're only punishing yourself right?"

"I promise it's not about punishing anyone," Harry said sincerely. "I just... need some space from them is all." Never mind that he'd had nothing but space since they'd gotten together.

"You'll certainly have that," Ginny said tartly. She was one of the few still to climb into a carriage out of what seemed to be the entire school. "As far as I can tell there are less than four other students staying here and they're all below third year. The only other company you'll have is the professors. That's not _my_ idea of a good time. Come on, Harry, come home with us."

Harry shook his head adamantly. "It might not be as much fun as at the Burrow, but I'll be fine. I can catch up with my homework and practise with Dumbledore and even plan a few DA meetings without getting distracted."

Ginny eyed him uncertainly. "It just doesn't seem right to leave you here."

"Well if you don't get in that last carriage pretty soon you'll be staying here with me," Harry pointed out.

Ginny said a word that probably would have got her mouth washed out if Mrs. Weasley had been around to hear it and ran down the steps. She glanced back as she hopped in the carriage and waved sadly even as the thestral pulling it began to trot down the path.

And he was alone, finally. The courtyard seemed obscenely quiet after the noise that had left along with the students and Harry was suddenly struck with a sense of loneliness. He reminded himself that he had chosen this, not been forced into it and he would be alright for the next three weeks without Ron and Hermione. He didn't need them as much as he thought he did and if he kept telling himself that he might eventually come to believe it. He shook his head as he recalled Ginny's offer to talk to them on his behalf. The very idea left a bad taste in his mouth. Let them figure out for themselves that they were acting like lovesick idiots and ignoring him and everyone else... alright so maybe he was trying to punish them a little, but it wasn't just about that. Really it wasn't.

He found the emptiness of the school somewhat disconcerting as he made his way to the Great Hall for lunch. Usually at this time of the day there were people everywhere, talking loudly, eating or even studying at the long tables, but today only the Head table was full. As Ginny had said there were only four other students, two third year Hufflepuffs, a second year Ravenclaw and a third year Gryffindor all sitting together at one end of the Hufflepuff table. Harry didn't know any of them well enough to approach them so instead he went alone to the Gryffindor table, where a single plate of sandwiches appeared.

Hedwig came and joined him part way through his meal as he sat skimming through a book. Harry pulled the chicken out of one of his sandwiches and fed it to her carefully before he saw the letter attached to her leg. He frowned thoughtfully; usually owl post was restricted to breakfast, but that was hours ago. Besides, who would be writing to him? The Hogwarts Express would only just be leaving Hogsemeade and he had few other correspondents.

He detached the letter and unrolled it to see a couple of lines in neat, slanted handwriting. It looked familiar, but he couldn't recall where he had seen it before.

_Harry Potter,_

_I have not contacted you before now, hoping to allow you time to accept what my father told you during our last Hogsmeade visit. I assure you it was never his intention to ambush you when you were supposed to be safe, but it was important that he speak with you before I approached you. I hope you understand and that you bear no ill feelings towards either me or my father._

_With that in mind I would ask you to meet with me, alone, at the edge of the lake at midnight. There is no need to reply to this letter, simply come or do not as you see fit. I will understand if you decide against this meeting, but pray you will not as it is imperative that we speak so you can begin to learn your true heritage._

_I ask that you tell no one else about me, or my father, no matter what you decide to do._

_Regards._

A tremor of excitement stirred in his stomach along with disappointment that she had not given her name. Finally he was going to meet Malachai's elusive daughter and he could ask her all the questions he'd not thought to ask her father in the shock and confusion he'd been feeling at the time. The daughter, whoever she was, had been mostly raised in the wizarding world and would surely be easier to talk to, maybe just a little more human, despite the formal tone of her letter.

He frowned as he read the letter again. Malachai and his group had been hiding in the caves above Hogsmeade, presumably because they couldn't get through Hogwarts' wards. Did that mean that this girl was still here? His eyes snapped up to the four students. Both of the Hufflepuffs were female. Could it be one of them? Harry didn't know their names or anything beyond their house. She probably was, he realised with a pang of disappointment; everyone else had gone home. He'd hoped she would be a little older, especially if she was going to be teaching him about elf culture, but that wouldn't stop him meeting her.

He shoved the letter in a pocket before he could draw too much attention from the Professors. Some of them had surely noticed the unusual delivery, but they seemed to be ignoring it, talking animatedly amongst themselves. Taking one last sandwich and sending Hedwig on her way, Harry quickly made his escape. He wanted to think about this some more where no one would be watching him.

Fortunately, with Harry one of only two Gryffindors in the castle and the other one still at lunch; he had the common room to himself. He settled in a squishy chair in front of the fire and pulled out the letter.

He remained there until dinner and returned directly after. The young Gryffindor boy must have decided to stay with the other three so Harry was undisturbed all evening.

He retreated to his dorm at about nine, when the other Gryffindor – whose name turned out to be David Moore – returned to the common room, looking like he would like to strike up a conversation with Harry but wasn't sure how.

The moment his eyes fell on the trunk at the end of his bed a thought occurred to him. What if it wasn't one of those Hufflepuff girls? What if another student had remained behind, hidden somewhere in the castle to throw him off? Well there was one certain way to find out.

He reached into his trunk, pulled out the Marauder's Map and touched his wand to it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The familiar map of Hogwarts began to spread across the old parchment and Harry's eyes roved over it, searching for any name that shouldn't be there.

Nothing. Apart from himself, David and the professors there were only three other names, presumably those of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw. There was no hidden person in the castle.

Unbidden his eyes scanned the northern end of the library where the study room should have been. It wasn't there either. The Marauders must not have found it, but then he couldn't imagine any of them except Lupin venturing in the library unless absolutely necessary.

Finally the time came and Harry donned his invisibility cloak and crept out of the tower. It was much easier than it had ever been before with the castle almost empty. He walked with his wand casting a faint light on the map which gave him plenty of warning if one of the teachers were patrolling a corridor he was about to pass through.

As far as he could tell the girl he would be meeting wasn't there yet, at least no name had appeared on the map by the time he walked carefully through the entrance hall and out onto the grounds.

He was so busy watching the map that he didn't look up until he had reached the lake. He was shocked to find that Malachai's daughter – if that was indeed who she was – was already there, waiting for him, but the map had showed the area empty apart from him.

After a brief moments thought Harry ripped off the cloak and looked directly into the eyes of Daphne Greengrass.

If she was startled by his sudden appearance she didn't show it as she gazed at Harry. She looked much as she did in class, her long blonde hair framing her face in waves that shone in the light of the nearly full moon. She was pretty, Harry thought, but he'd always known that, though her looks were somewhat abstracted by her cold demeanour. She had shucked her school robes in favour of form fitting leggings and a tunic-like top, reminiscent of the clothes he had seen the elves wearing. Of all the girls he had looked at over the last months, wondering if one of them could be Malachai's elusive daughter, she would have been the last on his list of suspects.

"Greengrass," he began uncertainly and paused. He had no idea what to say.

"Please, call me Daphne," the Slytherin girl said, but there was little warmth in her voice. "Greengrass is an affectation to help my family move more easily amongst humans. My people – or should I say, our people – do not have surnames."

"But Daphne really _is_ your name?" Harry questioned slowly, trying to give himself time to think. "It sounds very... human."

"It is an approximation of the name I was given at birth," she admitted. "Dafina. But I have grown accustomed to Daphne during my years in your world. I would be happy if you would call me that."

"Alright then, Daphne it is." He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to make this gesture. "You can call me Harry."

A faint smile touched her lips. "Thank you. I'm sure you have many questions."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I have so many I'm not quite sure which one to ask first." It didn't help that over the last two months he'd had plenty of time to come up with things he would have liked to ask Malachai, but hadn't been able to think about at the time and now those questions were trying to tumble their way through his lips all at once. It was therefore somewhat of a surprise that the one that won through was, "Why did you wait until now to introduce yourself? All those times in Potions, you could have at least_ hinted _that you wanted to talk to me."

Daphne sighed. "I wanted to make absolutely certain that your friends wouldn't come with you. I didn't think you had told them anything, but I couldn't be sure and even if you hadn't the possibility remained that you might have aroused their suspicions enough to follow you. Then I found this note," she reached into some hidden pocket and produced a crumpled piece of parchment. "You dropped it during class last week. When I realised Weasley and Granger were both leaving and you were staying... well things couldn't have worked out better for me. That's why I sent you that letter. Although if I knew you had an invisibility cloak I wouldn't have been quite so worried about you being followed." She eyed the cloak in his hand and glanced briefly at the map in the other, reminding Harry of something.

"I have this map," Harry said slowly, holding it up for her to see, he figured he had nothing to lose and he wasn't about to tell her the password to open it. "It tells me where everyone is within Hogwarts and the grounds. It _never_ lies. But it doesn't show you."

Daphne's eyes widened slightly, whether in confusion or in surprise that he would be so open with her Harry didn't know. "I have no idea. I've never come across such a thing. Does it show the house-elves?"

Harry frowned and scanned the kitchen area. He couldn't believe that with Hermione as his best friend he'd never even thought to look for house-elves on the map. "No."

"Then there's your answer," Daphne said simply. "It must only show humans."

Harry felt an odd feeling stirring in his chest. It felt almost like disappointment. "But I'm still on here and according to you and your dad I'm part elf too."

"My father didn't have much time to explain things to you," Daphne said. "Although I have human blood I am mostly elf. _You_ are mostly human. And my majority is approaching."

"Majority?" Harry asked. "I don't understand."

"My seventeenth birthday," said Daphne patiently. "The common belief among those of my people that do not experience it is that the change – where the elf blood overpowers the human – occurs in moments. It is a misconception my father seems to have passed onto you," she added with a slight disapproving frown. "The change begins months before, our bodies begin to alter, very slowly, until that moment when our ears grow, which happens very suddenly and I'm told is quite painful."

She gazed at him for a long moment, neither one speaking. "There is much you don't know about your people, my prince, but if you are willing I can teach you."

Harry shuddered. "Please don't call me that."

She bowed her head slightly. "As you wish."

Harry pulled a face at her deference. As much as he wanted to get to know her and hear about the elf culture, whether he belonged to it or not, this relationship would become very strained if she insisted on treating him like royalty.

Daphne was looking over his shoulder at the dark castle, a slightly worried look making her nose crinkle. "We shouldn't stay here, it's too open. Anyone could glance out a window and see us and I'm not supposed to be here."

"Where do you suggest?" Harry asked. He wasn't about to leave school grounds with her, not until he was completely sure of her motives.

She gave him a long appraising look before seeming to decide something. "I'm going to trust you with something. It's the place where I meet my father during term. It's perfectly safe and not too far from here."

Harry knew he should tell her no and go back to bed, but months of curiosity and the certain knowledge that he would be forever wondering if he didn't, had him agreeing.

He followed her along the edge of the lake walking away from the Forbidden Forest. Harry had never had much cause to go this way as the brush got very dense in places before the slope turned into an almost vertical wall of rock that was impossible to climb. Some of the younger years came out here to explore, but usually gave up after the first ten minutes when they found the way impassable.

Somehow Daphne managed to pick her way through the brush as easily as if she were just taking an evening stroll, leaving Harry to struggle along behind her. As much as he tried to step in the same places she did he found himself stumbling often and once tripped right into a patch of nettles, barely saving himself from being stung across his face and neck, although his hands didn't get off so easily.

By the time he'd scrambled back onto his feet, hoping she hadn't noticed his fall, Daphne was at the bottom of the slope, waiting for him. "How are you at climbing?"

"Not very," Harry admitted. He'd been able to climb the trees around Privet Drive when Dudley and his gang were chasing him, but he'd always been able to see the hand holds then.

"You'll get better," Daphne assured him. "When your body starts to change your muscles will get stronger and you'll start to feel a lot more agile. Climbing like this will start to look easy. But for now I'll take you the way I used to go before my change began."

Harry followed her along the base of the wall where the brush was much thinner and the going easier for perhaps five minutes when Daphne suddenly stopped by a large ferny plant.

"_Panta_," she said softly.

The sound of stone grating on stone echoed around them and the rock shifted, like a door opening inwards to reveal steps leading upwards and to the right through a dark tunnel. Daphne lit her wand and stepped inside and after a moment's hesitation Harry followed.

"I don't know who created the tunnel," she said as they ascended the steps and took a sharp right at the top. "My mother told me about it before I started coming to school here. I believe she used it for the same purpose I do, to meet her family."

Harry paused. "You meet your family here? Does that mean we're leaving the wards?" The tunnel they were walking through seemed to run parallel to the edge of the cliff wall, which meant he wasn't really walking away from Hogwarts – at least not yet.

Daphne shrugged. "The tunnel does eventually leave the wards, but we won't go past them tonight. The reason I'm bringing you here is that we need a safe place no one can find us. Whoever made this tunnel and the cave ahead, it has since been protected with elfish spells. Not even Professor Dumbledore could find us here."

The tunnel opened up into a small cave with what looked like a chalk line drawn through the middle, starting on one side of the exit of the tunnel they'd just come from. To the left, on the other side of the line was the beginning of another tunnel, winding further back into the rock and on the right there was an opening that looked out onto the grounds of Hogwarts.

"That's how I usually come in," Daphne said, indicating the opening. "We can talk here, just make sure you don't cross the line."

"Why not?" Harry asked, tracing the line with his eyes. It wasn't only on the floor, but running up the walls and across the rock ceiling too.

"That's the ward line," Daphne explained. "It won't stop you or me from crossing either way, because we're students here, but it does stop my father or anyone else who doesn't belong here. Once across that line you're outside the school and the protections around it. Not only that, but we cannot be sure that we aren't sounding an alarm when we cross it. That's why my father and I always stay on opposite sides of the line. I took a risk tonight to get here, but we should not push our luck."

"Where are you staying?" Harry said. If she had crossed the line then she must not be staying in Hogwarts.

"With my father and his people," Daphne shrugged, walking over to the opening. "In the caves where you met him. It's not that bad," she assured at Harry's surprised look. "Elves aren't like humans and despite my appearance I am mostly an elf. We are more comfortable outside instead of confined within stone walls. Even with a fully human parent you should have enough elf in you that you have felt it too."

Harry briefly remembered all the walks he used to take around Privet Drive and how much more relaxed he feltwjen he was outside. He'd always attributed it to being away from the Dursleys, but it could have been something more than that. And he'd never felt freer than when he was flying through the open air.

"It's why I chose to meet you by the lake rather than inside." She sat down with her legs dangling over the ledge and looked up at the castle. "Can't you feel it? The way the air moves across the grass and the trees reach up to the moonlight? The animals are running through the forest, going about their lives all around us, but not separate from us. We're united by love of the land around us."

Harry gazed at her for a long minute, almost awed at the way the light reflected in her eyes. He'd thought she was pretty before but right now she was beautiful. It took a conscious effort to draw his mind back to the present and remember that this girl might be attractive but she was also a virtual stranger and the girl Ron called the 'ice queen' and he couldn't trust her yet, even if they were in a similar situation. "I'm sorry, I don't feel that."

Far from being dismayed by his admission she smiled slightly. "You will. Your birthday is in July, right? Your own change should start within the next month or so."

"Tell me more about the change," Harry requested and sat down next to her. He might not be able to trust her yet, but he would be an idiot to pass up this chance to get answers.

"It begins around half a year before you reach your majority. My own started in October."

Harry quickly worked out the numbers. "So that means your birthday is sometime in March or April."

"March sixth," she told him. "I didn't even notice anything was different at first, but slowly I began to realise that my reactions were quicker and my body stronger. One night I came out here to meet my father and realised I was making my way through the underbrush with more ease than normal. A few weeks later I managed to climb here rather than take the steps."

"So it's just physical changes," Harry said thoughtfully. Daphne didn't look any different than she had in September so he had to assume it was internal rather than external, which was rather a shame. He would have been much happier about this if he thought he might end up taller for it.

"Until the day of your majority, when your elf magic awakens within you and then the final physical change – your ears – takes place. It's fortunate it happens that way; the change is supposed to be painful enough without adding in all those physical ones in the space of a single night."

Harry winced. It wasn't the first time she'd mentioned pain in conjunction with the change. "This whole thing is confusing. I mean, if we're both part elf and part human then why do we start off looking human and then change?"

Daphne was frowning. "Have you ever studied muggle science?"

Harry blinked. "Only in primary school before I came to Hogwarts."

"The best way I can explain it is that the elf side is a recessive trait, the weaker genes, if that makes any sense. That's why elves with even the slightest amount of human blood look human until their majority, but why humans with very little elf blood never even know about it. It's not until adulthood that the elf genes become dominant over the human. Even then it can only happen if there are enough elf genes present. There are probably a number of students in the school whose ancestors were part elf, but the blood is so weak they cannot experience the change. " She was staring out at the lake with a pensive expression on her face. "Do you understand?"

Harry tilted his head to one side, trying to match this intelligent young woman, with her knowledge of muggle science with the cold and distant girl he'd seen and worked with in class. "Yeah, I think so."

She nodded. "We should call it a night. I promised my father I wouldn't be too long and if you're too tired tomorrow the professors will wonder why. Do you think you can find your way back?"

"Yeah," Harry said easily.

Daphne stood. "We could meet up again... if you want to. The password for the tunnel is _panta_: it's the elfish word for open. We'll be perfectly safe here; no one can even see the cave mouth unless they already know it's there."

"Yeah, alright," Harry agreed. There were still so many things he wanted to ask after all. "I'll send you an owl."

He watched her take a deep breath before crossing the line and walking down the other tunnel. He waited until her footsteps had entirely faded away before lighting his wand and heading back to school.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	17. Reunited

Chapter 17 – Reunited

The rest of the Christmas holidays were far more enjoyable than Harry had expected. Although he spent a lot of time by himself he found it easy to sneak off once a day and meet Daphne in the hidden cave, far from prying eyes. They had to be careful to each stay on their own side of the ward line as Daphne was worried that crossing it too much might draw Dumbledore's attention, but that suited Harry just fine. He wasn't quite ready to trust his new elf friend just yet.

Christmas day itself was every bit as exciting as Harry could expect with only a handful of students and the Professors. Still, Harry opened his presents with relish and tried to picture how Ron and Hermione would look opening theirs at the Burrow. He felt a pang of regret at the thought and knew he could have been there with them if he hadn't been so determined that this would make them realise how they'd been treating him. He was a bit embarrassed about it when he realised that Ginny had been right and he was trying to punish them in some way and only hurting himself. He was determined that when they returned he would try and be a bit more of an adult about it.

He had received a couple of letters from them, mostly thank you notes and a full description of what Christmas day was like for them. Underneath the obvious though, there was a hidden message that made him slightly concerned. Ron's letters were full of the war and the attacks that he was hearing about. Harry wondered if he the reality that his family was in danger was starting to hit home and Hermione's notes confirmed that. She said Ron was increasingly jumpy, startling at the smallest noises and all he would talk about when they were together was the war. Harry made a mental note to keep an eye on him when they returned.

In the meantime he was spending a lot of time with Daphne as the only person around him he was really interested in talking to outside of Occlumency lessons. He still wasn't sure how far he could trust her, but he was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. She proved to be a good listener and Harry told her all about the adventures he'd had – at least the ones that wouldn't reveal anything he wasn't ready to tell her yet. In return she told him about elves and what it was like growing up in the elf world.

"I was nine when I started doing accidental magic," she told him one afternoon as they ate some food Harry had stolen from the kitchens. It had snowed heavily the night before, leaving a deep blanket of white over everything. Harry had been a bit concerned about leaving tracks in the snow, but a simple charm had insured they were covered almost instantly. "My mother was very proud; she didn't think I was human enough for magic, even with my round ears. It wasn't long after that that we moved to the human world."

Harry grinned and grabbed another chicken leg. He had noticed that he was the only one eating them while Daphne stuck to salad. He wondered if she was a vegetarian.

"Usually elf families pose as muggles with a muggle-born student, but I think my father spoke to your grandfather and they decided we should pretend to be a pure-blood family," Daphne continued. "Even though the war was over by then they knew that the prejudices were still strong here and there was always the possibility of You-Know-Who's return. They thought we would be safer that way, so we found a family name that we could adopt as our own and told everyone that we had just returned from France, where we had fled to after the last war."

"And no one saw through that?" Harry asked, pulling the blanket draped over his legs closer to him and refreshing the warming charms.

"We've stayed quiet," Daphne explained. She too had a blanket over her shoulders, but she seemed less bothered by the cold than Harry. The first few times they had met Harry had tried to pretend he was equally unaffected, but she had eventually assured him that her emerging elf side meant she was more resistant to extreme temperatures and allowed his pride to rest. "The story my father put about was that his parents had moved to France after the war with Grindelwald to make a fresh start, but now he had a family of his own he wanted to reacquaint himself with the culture he was born in. It's not perfect, but we've escaped suspicion so far. I think it helped that I convinced the sorting hat to put me in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw."

Harry almost snorted out the pumpkin juice he was drinking. "Really? I had to persuade it _not_ to put me in Slytherin." He froze, not quite sure why he had confessed that when he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione. But she _was_ a Slytherin so she probably wouldn't react as badly as his best friends would.

In fact she didn't even blink. "I can just imagine how people would react if they knew that."

"Yeah, I'd be the next Dark Lord again," Harry said bitterly.

Daphne's lips twitched in a smile. "Surely not! You're the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived and saviour of the world. You'd _never_ go dark."

Harry groaned but had to admit he liked the way she was so scornful about the wizarding world's attitude towards him. Most people he met these days were so fascinated by his fame that he couldn't get a decent conversation out of them.

"I don't know how you stand it," Daphne continued. "The idea of all those people staring at me and expecting something impossible of me makes me shudder."

Harry stared at her in amazement. Ron and Hermione usually avoided talking about any of this, knowing it bothered him, but most of that was because he could see that Ron at least didn't understand why he hated it so much. "I try and pretend it's not happening most of the time," he admitted. "It's harder here at school because everyone reads the paper and you can always tell when there's an article about me by the way they stare, but when I'm just with my friends I can forget about it."

She sat up straighter and studied him as if she weren't quite sure what she wanted to say would be well received. "There's an alternative," she said slowly. "You may have to stay here for now, but after school, you could leave. Forget about the war and the fame and everything and just do whatever you want."

"Go to the muggle world, you mean," Harry said, picking at his blanket. "I've thought about it, loads of times, but Voldemort will still be able to find me. I'll just be risking lives." Not to mention the fact that he couldn't leave until the prophecy was fulfilled, but he wasn't about to tell her that. "But after the war? Yeah, I can see myself doing that."

"I wasn't talking about the muggle world," Daphne said hopefully. "I was talking about the elven realm. I very much doubt Voldemort could track you there."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't know about that."

"You still don't really believe it all, do you?"

"I'm coming around to the idea," Harry said gently. "But until I actually see pointy ears I'm reserving judgement." And it was true. While he fully believed Daphne and her father were elves and that they both were convinced he was too, he still felt doubtful and knew he would until his next birthday when he would either have those doubts removed or proven right.

"It would be perfect though," Daphne said, with a real effort not too seem to keen on the idea. "No press, no fans. You could just be normal."

Harry sighed. "If you're telling the truth about part of it then that means it's all true and I really am a prince. I don't know if I can take people bowing and calling me 'Your Highness' any more than I can take fan girls."

Daphne, it appeared, knew when not to push, because she dropped the subject immediately.

"Everyone comes back in two days," she said instead.

"Yeah," Harry said, relieved at the simpler topic.

"It will be harder to meet up," she went on. "Your friends will want to know where you are all the time."

Harry shrugged. "I've never had much trouble sneaking about. It's been even easier since Ron and Hermione got together. What about you?"

Daphne looked away, sighing pensively. "I've never really let myself get too close to anyone here. No one will notice if I disappear every so often."

"Why not?" Harry asked, remembering her reputation of being somewhat aloof.

"I..."

"It's OK, you don't have to tell me," Harry said quickly. She hadn't pushed him and he was determined to repay the favour even though he was beginning to worry that she was hesitating because the reason was so bad.

Daphne was biting her lip. "No, I don't mind, it's just... you'll probably think it's silly. I know my parents do."

Hoping she wasn't about to tell him about some unreasoning prejudice against all humans, Harry nodded encouragingly. "If it helps, I promise I won't make fun of you."

"I was never really afraid of that," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Your mother wasn't the first elf that fell in love with and married a human. Sometimes the new couple would go to the elf realm, sometimes they'd stay here and I don't have any problem with any of that," she said hurriedly, as if worried he'd get the wrong idea. "But if Princess Lily hadn't married your father she might not have been so determined to stay here and help him fight the war. She might have lived."

Harry frowned. "So you think that if you cared too much about people here then you would want to stay as well?"

"I don't think I could bear to live here and watch people I've grown to love die," she said, her eyes distant. "It's bad enough here at school, knowing my parents are out there and hearing news of attacks, but my parents are safer than most. When I finish school we'll go back to the elf realm and I don't want to go back knowing I'm leaving _anyone_ to die, it'll be worse if I care about them."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that. On the one hand he felt that anyone who wanted to go away and forget the war was a coward, he certainly couldn't do it and he didn't know an awful lot of people outside of Hogwarts either, but at the same time he could see her point. She was an elf and this was a human war; it had nothing to do with her. Why should she have to fight it? If he could leave and not come back – well he'd already been offered that option and not taken it so maybe he wasn't the best comparison, but he could certainly understand the temptation.

"And then there's the fact that elves live longer than humans," she went on. "Can you imagine falling in love with someone and then watching them grow old, knowing they'd die of old age while you were still relatively young? I don't know how Princess Lily could stand it."

A knot formed in Harry's belly at that. He had wondered before how his mother could have ended up married to James Potter after he had seen them in Snape's pensieve. Now it seemed even more unlikely. She must have grown to really love him if she was willing to put herself through that kind of pain.

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry kept wondering about his own life and what would happen if it turned out all this really was true and he was an elf with a longer life span than that of his classmates. It put an extra complication in the way of his ever having a girlfriend. Not only did they have to consider getting involved with someone with a death sentence they'd need to deal with the fact that he might not be human. He told himself that it was alright, that he didn't need a girlfriend anyway, he'd gone this long without one and not suffered for it. The problem was he couldn't help but want someone who looked at him the way Ron and Hermione looked at each other these days.

"We'll need somewhere to meet in the school," Daphne said at last. "It will be easier than sneaking all the way out here and there's less risk of being caught during the day."

Harry nodded curtly. Maybe he should tell her about the study room. He'd never even been disturbed by Pince in there, it should be secret enough as long as they made sure the cloak was nearby in case she did decide to check on him.

"Unless you don't want to anymore," Daphne said uncertainly. "I shouldn't have said that about your mother, I wasn't thinking."

"Hmm? Oh, don't worry, you just gave me something to think about."

Daphne watched him uncertainly. "And you don't mind that I don't want to be involved with the war?"

"No," Harry said, snapping his attention back to her. "I understand. It's not your fight."

"Or yours," she said hesitantly.

Harry could have laughed. She didn't know, of course, that there was no one with more claims to this fight than him. "I'm a target," he said in lieu of telling her the prophecy. "Voldemort will always be after me until the day one of us is dead. And he killed my parents. It _is_ my fight now."

"I agree," a deep voice said loudly, startling Harry so much he nearly fell out of the cave opening. "And so does your grandfather."

Malachai was standing in the far tunnel entrance, watching them with what Harry could only assume was an amused expression.

"Father," Daphne said and rose to speak with him.

As Harry watched them he was struck by the oddly formal way they spoke to each other. There was no hugging or friendly jibing as he had come to expect from watching the Weasleys, nor was there the rough camaraderie that Vernon and Dudley shared. He wondered if that was a family trait or if it was the way all elf families interacted.

After a minute Malachai and Daphne approached the ward line and Malachai inclined his head respectfully.

"Greetings, Highness."

Harry resisted the urge to grind his teeth. "Hi. You said something about my Grandfather." It felt strange to talk about a man he wasn't even sure existed in such a familiar manner, but he shrugged off the feeling.

"Indeed. I have spoken to him regarding the war on many occasions. It was always his intention to wait until you finished your schooling to insist you moved to the elven realm where you will be safe," Malachai said. "However it has become apparent that you are a central figure in this war and he realises it would not be fair to remove you when so much seems to depend on you."

"He was going to _insist_?" Harry exploded. "What right does he have to insist anything? I have enough interfering old men in my life without adding another."

"He is the king," Malachai said simply. "His word is final."

"Not with me it isn't," Harry said angrily. He was not going to be ordered around by a man he had never even met; he had Dumbledore to do that and Voldemort manipulating him from afar. Just because this man was his grandfather – and he still wasn't ready to believe that entirely – didn't mean he could make Harry move to a whole different world.

"He is also your family and he is worried for you, Your Highness," said Malachai, putting a slight stress on the title as if trying to remind Harry of something. "Our entire race has an interest in your survival. There is also the matter of avenging Princess Lily."

Harry opened his mouth to continue arguing and then closed it with a snap when he realised what Malachai had said. "Wait, are you saying the elves are going to join the war?"

Daphne, too, was staring at her father like he had grown another head. "I thought he'd decided we would never be a part of this war." There was a quiet desperation in her voice. She wouldn't be able to stay distanced from the war if her father was on the front lines.

"That was before he received my latest report," Malachai explained. "The wizarding world truly believes that Prince Harry is their Chosen One. However true that is I could not say, but his disappearance before the human Dark Lord is killed would destroy the wizards' morale. They might even stop fighting altogether. We might wish to remain apart from the humans' affairs, but if we did this then we would be influencing the outcome and not in a positive way."

"So don't do anything," Harry suggested coldly. How dare they talk about the fate of the wizarding world as if it only mattered in the ways it might affect _them_? "Just leave me here and go back to your nice safe lives."

"Were you anyone else we would do exactly that," Malachai admitted. "But we are not prepared to leave you here to die. As those are the only other choices we have we must take the final option. The king is prepared to support you fully on this, Your Highness. His armies are gathering."

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Two Days later the rest of the students returned. Although he was happy to see his friends again he found he was disappointed to be losing so much time with Daphne. Over the last weeks they had spent hours at a time just talking and it was partly due to her that he had come to the conclusion that he had behaved childishly with Ron and Hermione. He had told her about the study room and arranged to meet her there a couple of times a week. Even if Pince did catch them he doubted she would do anything about it; after all she hadn't forbidden him to tell his friends. At most she might think it odd that he choose to share the hidey-hole with a Slytherin of all people.

After the feast that evening he went with Ron and Hermione to the Room of Requirement. Hermione had been refusing to make eye contact with him all through the meal and Harry had seen Ron's new jumpiness for himself. He looked at Harry as if he'd grown a second head and he kept taking the conversation back to what was happening with the war.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione gushed as soon as the door had closed behind her. "We both are. We didn't even realise what we were doing."

Harry could only gape at her. "What are you talking about?"

Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Ginny sort of pointed out how we've been ignoring you. Everyone really."

"It was unintentional," Hermione said desperately, tears shining in her eyes. "Our relationship was just so new and we both wanted to explore it, but not at the cost of our friendship with you."

"Ginny told you?" Harry asked feeling his face flush slightly with anger. He'd asked her to keep it to herself and she'd just run along and done it anyway.

"I'm glad she did," Hermione insisted. "We were being unfair to you when you obviously needed us."

"Needed you? I didn't need you," Harry objected. "I'm sure if I did you would have helped me, but all I was doing was going to class and stuff. It's not like I was about to face Voldemort again."

"We would have helped you," Ron agreed. He fidgeted in his seat and glanced at the door. "Has Dumbledore told you anything about You-Know-Who? Do you know what he's been doing? We've been so cut off we don't know what's going on."

"Nothing," Harry said, a little taken aback by the sudden interrogation. "Just the attacks, but they've all been in the _Prophet_."

"Have you been having visions?"

"_Ron_!" Hermione said, scandalised. "This conversation is not about the war, we're apologising to Harry, remember?"

"Oh, right," Ron said and looked away. Harry and Hermione shared a bewildered look.

"I didn't mean Voldemort anyway, Harry," Hermione went on as if the interruption had never happened. "I meant you needed us as friends. You're under a lot of pressure and it's understandable that you need friends to talk to who treat you as a normal person and that you can talk to about all those things you have on your mind and not worry about revealing any secrets."

Harry squirmed under her frank appraisal, but couldn't deny that he had needed to talk to them and they hadn't been there even though he knew that he wouldn't have told them everything even if they had been. There were some things he just couldn't discuss with them. It was a painful truth; in the past he'd trusted them with everything, but now there were just too many secrets.

And he had Daphne to speak to now. He might not have told her the prophecy, or about the Order, but she knew about some of the things he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione. And she was introducing him to a whole new side of himself, a side that he was actually starting to believe in now. And if – when – he began his change, he knew she would be the only one who could possibly understand what he was going through.

"It's not all your fault," he admitted. "I could have told you what was gong on. I spoke to Dumbledore about it and he said you'd come around eventually. I think part of me wanted you to realise on your own and a bigger part kind of wanted to punish you for what you were doing."

Hermione smiled softly and laid her hand on his arm. "That never works, you know."

He smiled deprecatingly. "I should've listened to Ginny."

"You didn't have quite so much fun as your letters said, did you?"

Harry just shrugged. "What about you guys?" he asked, eager to move the discussion away from himself. "Anything exciting happen?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, an eager smile on her face, but Ron beat her to it. "Scrimgeour showed up on Christmas Day with Percy. He was looking for you."

"Who's Scrimgeour?" Harry asked with a frown. He was pretty sure he had heard the name before but couldn't place where.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed. "There's more going on in the world than the war you know. Rufus Scrimgeour is the new Minister. Surely you heard about Fudge being forced out of office over the summer."

"Oh, right," Harry said quickly. It had been all over the _Daily Prophet_ for about a week although he hadn't paid it much attention at the time. He'd had enough to deal with at the time. "Why did he want to see _me_?"

"He didn't say," Ron shrugged. "And they left pretty quick once they realised you weren't there."

"Mr. Weasley said that it's not the first time the Minister has asked to speak with you," Hermione added. "But Professor Dumbledore keeps refusing to allow it. I-" she glanced at Ron, looking a little worried. "I think he wants your support against Voldemort."

"Hey, maybe he does," Ron said, sitting up straighter. "I'll bet he wants to give you some kind of training, mate. I mean, everyone thinks you're going to take out You-Know-Who, right? But right now he'd kill you in seconds, but if you could train with the Aurors or something-"

"He'd want something in return," Hermione cut in. "And we don't know what that is. It might be something Harry wouldn't want to do and anyway it's not right for everyone to expect that of Harry and if it looks like the Minister is training him that will only support that belief. He should be spending more time preparing the people to defend themselves and making sure that as many lives as possible are spared."

Harry's gaze snapped back and forth between them, anger simmering in his stomach. He was slightly hurt that Ron thought so little of his abilities to fight, but the predominant feeling was irritation that yet another person he'd never met was jumping into the 'let's run Harry's life from a distance' bandwagon, but Ron's next words gave his anger a new target.

"But it can only be a good thing if Harry gets more training," Ron insisted. "Right now he's a dead man walking. He wouldn't stand a chance against You-Know-Who."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, her eyes flickering to Harry apologetically.

"You really think I'm that pathetic?" Harry demanded. "Should I just roll over and let him curse me because he's so much more powerful than me and knows more magic than I probably ever will?"

"No, mate, I'm just saying, more training can only be a good thing. I... don't want you to die and you know he won't just kill you, he'll torture you first and I just can't stand thinking about it."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said sadly.

"I... You think about that?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ron shrugged, staring at his feet rather than meeting Harry's eyes. "I dunno. Lately I've been thinking about it a lot. I guess it really struck home the day we went to Diagon Alley."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth, but Harry just felt confused. "What happened?"

"It was a couple of days after we last saw you," Ron explained. "We were doing some Christmas shopping and the Alley should have been packed, but it was like walking over someone's grave. Loads of shops were closed and there was hardly anyone about. Fred and George said it had been like that since summer and the people that _were_ there... they were _scared_. And it occurred to me that all those people were hiding at home, just sitting there, waiting for _you_ to do something about the war, but you're only sixteen. How are you supposed to do anything about it when fully grown wizards can't? I mean... I know you're special, but you can't fight him and he'll take you away and hurt you until he'd had enough and then he'll kill you."

Hermione reached over to lay a hand on his arm. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but Ron jumped and shook her off as if she'd slapped him. "Is... is that what the nightmares have been about?"

"Yeah, I guess." Ron was still studiously avoiding anyone's eyes, a tactic Harry was familiar with from when _he_ was the one being questioned about his feelings. "I keep seeing H-Harry after You-Know-Who gets a hold of him, all bloody and bruised... or worse." He sucked in a deep breath. "Look, I really don't want to talk about this."

"It might help," Hermione began.

"But if you're not ready we won't push," Harry added with a glare in her direction. If there was one thing he hated it was when Hermione pushed him to talk when he wasn't ready to. He wasn't about to let her do it to Ron too.

Hermione huffed but let it go. "Fine,"

"Um, I think I'm going to go and get settled in," Ron said quickly, casting them a brief uncomfortable look before quickly turning away. Harry watched him go with a twinge of sadness. He knew what it was like to have nightmares that he couldn't shake off.

Hermione sank back down to her chair. "He's been like that for almost the entire holidays. Ever since that trip to Diagon Alley I suppose, although I didn't realise that until just now. I knew he was scared, but I didn't know..."

Harry was still staring thoughtfully after Ron. "Why all of a sudden? He knew I was a target before, and he knew what people think I am."

"Sometimes we don't realise our fears until something brings them to light," Hermione said shakily. "I imagine seeing Diagon like that was a shock; it brought it all home to him. I know it affected me, seeing it so quiet and right before Christmas too. We all thought it was going to be such a good day, even Professor Jones took the day off from her translating to come with us."

Harry sighed. He could imagine that it had been difficult to see the busy alley so lifeless, but he didn't see how that all related to him in Ron's mind. "So it made the war more real to him, right? So why not be scared for his family? Why is he obsessing over me?"

"People react in strange ways," Hermione said wisely. "Besides, as far as Ron and I are concerned you _are_ family. Which is why we should have stuck with you instead of getting so... distracted, I suppose."

"Forget it, I could have just told you what was bothering me, but I didn't." They had apologised once and so had he, it was time to let it all go. "Do you really think the Minister wants to train me?"

"Maybe," Hermione said thoughtfully. "But it's far more likely he wants to use all the good press you have at the moment to boost his own reputation and that of the Ministry. From what I've read since he took over from Fudge he's overly concerned with public opinion."

Harry pulled a face. "Great! So now I have to avoid the Minister of Magic or get forced to be his poster-boy. Why doesn't he just force his way in here if he's so desperate to talk to me?"

"Well that's obvious," Hermione said. "If he came here surrounded by Aurors and demanding to speak to you it'll be all over the next issue of the _Prophet_ and that's hardly the image he wants to present to the public. Besides, Dumbledore won't permit it and he has ultimate authority here, not the Minister. Hogwarts has always been autonomous to the Ministry when it comes to who the Headmaster will allow within its walls."

"Except for last year, obviously," Harry muttered, thinking of Umbridge.

"Why do you think Fudge had to pass all those Educational decrees?" Hermione said softly. "It was because he had no power here and he knew it. And the moment the Wizengamot had the slightest doubt in his ability as Minister those decrees tumbled like a house made of exploding snap cards. Professor Dumbledore hadn't even been reinstated as Chief Warlock yet and they were already tearing away anything that would interfere with the running of Hogwarts."

Harry couldn't remember much from the end of last year, but he thought Hermione was right. The decrees had been abolished almost before news of Voldemort in the Ministry atrium hit the papers. At the time he'd attributed it to Umbridge being incapacitated and not being able to enforce her beloved rules, but now he wasn't so sure. He had to admit he had been so caught up with what had happened to Sirius back then that he hadn't been paying all that much attention to anything else. It was with a guilty start that he realised he had barely thought about Sirius in months and he wondered how he could be so callous to forget about the man that had died for him.

"Harry," Hermione was calling. "Is everything alright?"

Harry shook himself. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Hermione frowned sceptically but didn't press and Harry was grateful. He didn't feel up to discussing this particular topic yet. Somehow he doubted he ever would.

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A/N: I know it's been forever! Since the last time I posted a chapter I've vought a dance school, had to do a tonne of choreography in preparation for my first show as well as think about costumes, music etc. That's on top of my other job. I know I shouldn't be making excuses, but sometimes real life takes time away from what we'd much rather be doing.

I can't promise I'll be able to update as quickly as I'd like from now on, especially as dance classes begin in just over a week, but I won't abandon this.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, they are probably the only reason I've gotten back to this as quickly as I have.

Nat.


	18. Choking

Chapter 18 – Choking

January passed uneventfully even though Harry was busier than ever. Gryffindor's next Quidditch match was only a month away, classes were becoming ever more demanding and Dumbledore was scheduling extra Occlumency lessons. He said it was because he wanted to stop Harry's visions as soon as possible, but Harry privately suspected the old man was becoming desperate. No matter how hard he tried it looked like Harry would never be completely able to protect his own mind. For one thing he was too easily distracted and even though Dumbledore insisted his progress was good Harry knew by now that he'd never be able to close his mind entirely.

He was glad that Ron and Hermione had kept to their promise to not abandon him again, it was great to have them to talk to and study with again without them waltzing off to snog in a cupboard somewhere, however he could have done with spending a bit _less_ time with Ron. Hermione was beginning to get fed up with it too for all her patience. It seemed like whatever was bothering Ron so much had translated into him following Harry almost constantly with a worried frown pulling on his forehead, jumping at the slightest movement and starting fights over nothing. Harry was at his wits end trying to work out what was wrong.

It all came to a head one week at the beginning of February at the senior DA meeting. Harry had set the group to working on a new shield charm he had found in the library anthologies and was walking around offering assistance where needed. McGonagall, on the other side of the room, was correcting two Ravenclaw seventh years when Harry became aware of someone yelling as a large space opened up in the middle of the floor.

He hurried over to where a familiar mop of red hair and a large bundle of Hogwarts school robes were wrestling on the floor. Harry couldn't see who the other boy was and didn't wait to find out as he grabbed hold of Ron's robes and pulled him bodily away.

"Get off me, Harry, this is none of your business," Ron yelled, struggling wildly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry demanded, avoiding flailing limbs as Ron struggled to jump back on the other boy, who Harry could now see was Zacharias Smith, a rather unpleasant Hufflepuff who had questioned Harry every chance he got the year before. Despite that, he couldn't guess why Ron felt the need to start a fight.

"I'd rather like to know that myself," McGonagall said dryly, her expression sterner than ever. Hermione was hovering behind her, holding her pale face in her hands and staring in horror. "Well Mr. Weasley, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Ron stopped fighting and hung his head. "He deserved it."

"An excuse I have heard numerous times before and always uttered with such confidence that it is almost a shame that I must tell you that no matter what petty insult Mr. Smith may have offered you there is never _any_ excuse for behaviour such as this." McGonagall knelt next to Smith who had sat up and was gently prodding the area around his eye, wincing at the contact. "Everyone, get back to work," she ordered. "Miss Granger, if you will supervise for a few minutes, Mr. Potter and I will be back momentarily."

Harry started in surprise, wondering why he was being dragged into this, but willingly followed her into an anteroom, Ron and Smith trailing along behind.

As soon as the door closed behind them McGonagall whirled on Ron and demanded, "Exactly what was that disgusting display all about?"

Ron muttered something and gazed steadily at the floor.

"Mr. Smith, perhaps you can tell me what was going on in there," McGonagall said briskly.

"We were all practising the spell, just like we were supposed to," Smith said sullenly. "I was talking to Ernie, who was my partner when Weasley attacked me. I didn't do _anything_."

"Hmm," McGonagall frowned, her lips in a thin line. "You may return to the group session Mr. Smith. I will discuss this further with you later."

Smith nodded and headed silently to the door, but Harry didn't miss the smirk he shot at Ron as he left. Fortunately Ron was still staring at the floor or he may have taken it into his head to start fighting again.

"Never have I been so disappointed in one of my Gryffindors," McGonagall said once Smith was gone. Harry was struck with the reminder of the previous year when he and George Weasley had attacked Malfoy after a Quidditch match when she had used similar words to chastise them, but he wisely kept his mouth shut on the matter. "Not only were you involved in conduct unbecoming of a student of this school, but you seem to be the instigator. Not only that but you put Mr. Potter in a very difficult situation when you forced him to intervene."

"I... no, I did it to _help_ Harry," Ron said.

"I assure you that was not the effect you achieved," McGonagall said. "Instead he was forced to separate you from another student while he was in a position of authority over you. I thought you would have more consideration for your friend than to ask him to choose between pulling you off of Mr. Smith and his loyalty to you."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her from behind Ron. He hadn't even thought about not jumping right in there and breaking up the fight, nor had he considered that maybe he was betraying Ron by doing it, he'd just acted.

"I am waiting, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said frostily. "Just what prompted this?"

Ron chewed his lip, his eyes flickering uncertainly to Harry before coming to rest on a spot just beyond McGonagall's shoulder. "He... he was talking about Harry. Said that no matter how good Harry was at Defence, when You-Know-Who comes for him he'll be nothing but a..." he mumbled something Harry didn't catch, but apparently McGonagall did for her face paled slightly, though it did not lose it's disapproving countenance.

"And so you decided to react to this insult by leaping upon him and giving the class an example of muggle duelling?" she said.

"I lost it," Ron muttered. "I didn't even think."

"No, of that we are in complete agreement," McGonagall said. "I will be taking fifty points from Gryffindor and you will report to Mr. Filch every evening at eight for the next two weeks. For the duration of your detentions you are banned from this club. You are dismissed."

Harry watched Ron leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat and couldn't help but feel sorry for his friend even as he wondered why McGonagall had insisted he be present for this. Surely he would have been better off staying in the Hall with the others.

"Mr. Potter, I wanted to commend you for your quick action although in future it might be wise to remember that you are fully capable of using your wand_ before_ you jump into the centre of the fray."

Harry ducked his head to hide the flush that crept over his cheeks. "Guess I didn't think either."

"It was not a reprimand," McGonagall said and Harry could have sworn he heard amusement in her voice. "I wanted to discuss Mr. Weasley's recent behaviour with you. I'm sure you are as concerned as I am."

"Oh, right," Harry nodded. "What did you want to know?"

McGonagall gestured for him to sit. "I am aware that this began over the Christmas period while he was at home. Perhaps you could explain what you know of how it started."

Harry nodded again and quickly told her about the trip Ron and Hermione had made to Diagon Alley and how Ron now seemed plagued by thoughts of what would happen to Harry if Death Eaters or Voldemort got hold of him. "It's just so unlike him," he finished. "I don't really understand it."

"Nor do I," McGonagall confessed. "I will take this to the Headmaster. If it continues I'm afraid it may become necessary to find some kind of professional help for Mr. Weasley."

Harry frowned. "You mean like a psychologist?" Dudley had visited a psychologist during the last school year, he suddenly remembered because Aunt Petunia had been afraid he had suffered some kind of trauma from the Dementor attack. As far as Harry could tell there had been no discernable difference in him after a year of 'professional help' and he doubted it would do any more for Ron.

"I believe that is what the muggles call it," McGonagall agreed. "Although the wizarding version is somewhat more... effective shall we say? Now I believe we should return to the main group before Miss Granger becomes completely overwhelmed."

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"Wizards call it mind healing," Hermione explained patiently. "Not particularly inventive, I'll grant you, but no one ever said wizards were good at coming up with catchy names."

"Never mind what it's called," Harry said impatiently. "How does it work? D'you think it will help Ron?"

Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth and glanced down at the book in her lap. "I'm no mind healer, Harry and it's not like I've read up on this extensively."

"Yeah, but you have heard of it," Harry prodded. "And knowing you, as soon as you did you went to the library to find a book on it."

Hermione sighed. "It involves Legillimency of some kind," she said. "I think the mind healer goes into the patients mind and directs it in healing itself. Personally I think it's a cheat. At least the muggles help the patient to heal themselves instead of forcing them to get better."

Harry rolled his eyes. "But will it help Ron?"

"I- I don't know," she admitted. "But I think sending him to a mind healer is a pretty strong reaction at this point. It's just some aggression and anxiety. He needs to work through it, that's all and then he'll be fine. What I don't understand is why they're talking about this for Ron when you've been through some pretty traumatic things and no one's ever even _talked_ to you about how you're feeling. And they really should have, after the Tournament and what happened to Sirius."

Harry looked away, not wanting to go into that. "But it's me, isn't it? They wouldn't want me going to some mind healer in case it got back to the _Prophet_ that I was crazy or something."

"I think it's more likely that they were worried that a healer could take advantage of the things you know, like information about the Order."

"But Ron knows that stuff too," Harry objected.

"I know," Hermione said slowly, with the air of one delivering terrible news. "Which is why I think they'd send him to Professor Snape."

"SNAPE?" Harry exploded. "No way! That git will just take the opportunity to take whatever dirt he can get on the Gryffindors. He won't care about helping Ron."

"I know you don't like Snape," Hermione tried, her tone gentle. "But Dumbledore trusts him and that's enough for me. He's on our side and risking his life to bring the Order crucial information."

"That doesn't mean he's a nice person," Harry snapped.

Hermione snorted. "I never claimed he was. I just told you what the most likely solution is."

Harry harrumphed and threw himself back in the couch. "You really think all he needs is time to get over it?"

"You know Ron," Hermione said with a shrug. "Sometimes it takes him a while to get over things, but he'll be fine."

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The worst part in all this was that with Ron following him around all the time 'in case he was attacked' he was finding it increasingly difficult to sneak away and visit Daphne. They managed one weekend meeting in the study room, where they pored through the anthologies and talked about school.

"Jones is always on at me," Daphne complained. "She seems to think I should be as good at silent magic as everyone else is, but I'm really struggling. She wants to start practise duels, but I'm holding everyone back."

Harry nodded, doing his best to look sympathetic. His own Defence class had moved on to practise duels already while he and Hermione were getting into advanced casting. "Maybe I could help you," he said hopefully. "Except I don't think I did all that much good with Ron."

"I'll probably never get it," Daphne shrugged. "You forget I'm only part human. My magic isn't as strong as theirs. Of course I can't explain that to Jones."

Harry frowned. "I'm only part human, but I can do it. I'm sure that you can too."

Daphne smiled slightly. "You're over half human. For you elf is the smaller percentage of your DNA. I, on the other hand, struggle in most of my classes except for Potions." She sighed. "Jones keeps telling me I should join the DA."

"You could," Harry said hesitantly. "I'll help you catch up."

"No, I couldn't," Daphne's smile was a little warmer this time though. "If I even showed an interest in it I'd be in all sorts of trouble with the other Slytherins. They'd be watching me and I'd find it impossible to meet you."

"Oh," Harry said, dejected. He had to admit it would have been hard to retain his indifferent facade in regards to Daphne if he had to teach her in the DA. He was finding it difficult enough to keep his eyes off her at mealtimes and during Potions classes where they were still partnering each other; a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by Hermione.

Hermione had promised not to say anything about his infatuation to Ron or anyone else, but Harry had still had to endure her ongoing comments whenever they were alone about how he not only fancied a Slytherin, but the Ice Queen herself.

But she wasn't like that with Harry and he had come to realise that she had her own facade to keep up; that she didn't care for anyone, not even her own housemates, in order to stop anyone from asking too many questions.

Other than that one meeting they were forced to sneak out at night – long after the library was locked up for the evening – to the small cave on the edge of the wards. Unfortunately Ron saw his tiredness and assumed he was having visions, pestering him mercilessly for details until Harry was ready to scream.

Of course the fact that he_ was_ having visions at least once a week didn't help with his irritation and he found himself snapping at everyone around him until McGonagall was once again offering him her ear. He declined, naturally.

There was a snowstorm on the first weekend of February and nearly all the Gryffindor sixth years met in one of the courtyards for an impromptu snowball fight.

Harry had been hit by a wave of anticipation the moment he saw the snow laying thickly over the grounds. It was with nervous excitement that he woke his room mates to tell them the news. Only Ron seemed unaffected, leaving the other four to dress warmly and race outside for their fight. The few times Harry had been able to look away he'd seen Ron staring at them from a nearby window, but apparently he couldn't let his tension go long enough to join them. Hermione had been by to talk to him, but apparently not even she could get him to relax and have fun.

The fight devolved into snowman building and then Harry helped some of the younger students build a snow-Hogwarts. He was aware that he was acting like a little kid, but he just couldn't seem to shake off his excitement, despite the fact that Neville, Dean and Seamus had long ago given up and gone inside for hot chocolate and marshmallows. He would have stayed out longer, except Professors Snape and Jones came by and ordered them to dinner where they 'wouldn't disturb those that couldn't afford to take a day off.'

By the time evening fell Harry was exhausted and barely managed to eat a helping of shepherd's pie before he had to crash for the day. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to meet Daphne that evening as it was more difficult for her to sneak away on weekends. For some reason he felt that seeing her would be the perfect end to the day.

He fell asleep almost instantly and it seemed like only a moment later that he opened his eyes again. Only he was no longer in his four poster bed in Gryffindor tower, with the gentle snores of the other sixth year boys rolling around him. He was instead in a dark room that he had seen many times before.

Death Eaters stood in a large circle all facing a black throne like chair at the end of the room upon which sat Voldemort, who was gazing about the room with a faint smirk touching his lips. Harry, who stood outside the circle, backed up as far as he could until he felt the wall behind him. Not another one.

Voldemort rubbed his hands together gleefully. "It seems, my friends, that the guest of honour has finally arrived."

A mutter ran around the circle. Harry, feeling even more nervous knowing Voldemort had been waiting for him edged along the wall. Maybe if he could find a door he would be able to sneak out when someone came in or left.

"I expect you are waiting eagerly to discover the reason for this little get together, Harry," Voldemort said. "You see, tonight, while your mind is here, your body lies defenceless in your bed, where anyone who might happen upon it could, conceivably deprive it of life."

Harry gasped in horror. No, it wasn't possible. No one in Hogwarts would kill him in his sleep. At least, no one in Gryffindor, he amended mentally when he considered Snape and Malfoy.

"It won't be long," Voldemort continued. "Just a few more minutes for my unwilling servant to make his way to your bed and begin to choke the life from you – I chose that method myself, much slower than a simple stabbing to give you time to really suffer before your last breath escapes your lips."

There was absolutely no way in Hell he was going to let that happen. If he was going to die it wouldn't be while he was sleeping. With a small amount of desperation beginning to well up in his stomach he closed his eyes and willed himself to wake.

"Is it happening yet?" a Death Eater said eagerly. "Is Potter dying?"

"Be patient, Macnair," Voldemort said. "While I appreciate the way you lust for his death you are distracting me from the main event."

_Wake up, wake up_, Harry chanted to himself. Why couldn't he push himself out of Voldemort's mind even after almost six months of Occlumency lessons?

And then he felt it, a tightness in his chest that made his heart beat twice as fast. He gasped and one hand came unconsciously to clutch at his chest.

"Ah, it begins," Voldemort said with some satisfaction. "How does it feel to know that you are drawing your last breaths, Harry? To know you will die here, far away from your friends and those that _care_ about you?"

Black spots filled his vision. He was starting to feel so dizzy that he fell to his knees, practically clawing at his chest in a bid to force his lungs to draw in more air.

"All alone," Bellatrix Lestrange's baby voice cooed. "You'll die all alone with the big, bad Death Eaters."

Harry fell forward, barely catching himself with one hand. He couldn't cough, or gasp, but a faint whining sound escaped his lips. Pain wracked his chest and blood pounded in his ears and he still couldn't wake up. He was going to die, no one could possibly save him as long as Voldemort was holding him here. He had to wake up and save himself.

There was the sound of running footsteps and a door opening, but Harry paid it little attention. "My Lord," a voice called. "I bring news from your translator."

"I trust it is urgent if you have interrupted so important a meeting," Voldemort said dangerously.

Harry felt like there was something covering his face, but there was nothing at all. He whined deep in his throat and fell the rest of the way to the floor, no longer able to support his own weight. His limbs were shaking so violently he thought the Death Eaters would be able to see them.

"Yes, My Lord. We have determined how to access the fountain's power."

"Very well, approach and give me your news, but whisper it. We have a spy present after all and he's not dead yet. He does have a rather... _unfortunate_ habit of escaping."

He couldn't see anything at all now, his vision was just a cloud of darkness and the voices of Voldemort and the messenger seemed so far away they needn't have whispered, because he wouldn't have been able to make sense of it anyway.

"WHAT?" Voldemort roared. "Are you certain?"

Harry's stomach clenched as a wave of anger not his own ran through him and his prickling scar seared with pain. Even as he struggled to take in just a little bit of oxygen he was surprised that he could still feel anything beyond the burning in his lungs.

Apparently the messenger confirmed whatever it was that had got Voldemort upset because the anger increased until Harry had to clench his eyes shut at the pain.

And then he was spinning, or maybe it was just his head and now he was lying on his back on what felt like a mattress and there really _was_ something – something soft – pressed over his nose and mouth.

Harry kicked out and thrashed his arms until he heard an "Oomph," from above him and suddenly the pressure on his face lessened and he was able to shake off the pillow that had been smothering him and take large, gulping, gasping breaths interspersed with a racking cough that tore up his sore throat.

It was dark in the dormitory, so dark Harry couldn't see his attacker or even the posts of his own bed. He wanted to reach for his glasses, but didn't trust his hands to obey his commands and try as he might he could do nothing more than fumble for the wand he was sure was on the nightstand.

"Harry, calm down."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at Ron's voice. Hopefully his friend waking up had scared off whoever it was trying to smother him in his sleep. He wasn't strong enough to sit up, but he was fairly certain whoever had attacked him must have left.

"You've got to stay quiet," Ron whispered. "You don't want to wake the others do you?"

Surprised that the others had managed to sleep through an entire attack Harry shook his head numbly, but he couldn't manage to stop himself from wheezing and coughing. Why wasn't Ron more concerned? It seemed odd after the way Ron had been following him around and jumping at the slightest sneeze over the last month. He wanted to ask Ron if he'd seen anything, but he was still having trouble calming his breathing. Finally his hand closed over his wand and he sat up, gazing about with hazy sight. He didn't realise that he lit his wand silently as he quickly scanned the room for his attacker.

"Was it a vision?" Ron asked after a few moments and Harry rolled his eyes. He was breathing easier now, but it still sounded harsh and faster than normal to his own ears. His heart was racing so fast he was sure Ron would be able to hear it.

"Yeah... Can you... pass me my... glasses?"

"Sure mate," Ron said agreeably and helped Harry put them on. "So what did you see?"

Harry rubbed his scar, wincing as the pain flared under his fingers. It still felt like Voldemort was very angry, but why? What had happened? If he hadn't been suffocating when the messenger arrived he might have learned something important.

"It was... deliberate..." he said between gasps. "Volde... Voldemort wanted... me there." He stared suspiciously at a shadow in the corner until he was sure that was all it was. Could the attacker have gotten out the room before Ron noticed him, or was he hiding somewhere nearby, waiting for them to let their guard down before striking?

Ron frowned. "Why? Was it like with Sirius? Is he trying to get you to go somewhere?"

"No..." Harry said. "I should go see... Dumbledore..."

"In a minute," Ron said a little too quickly. "Catch your breath first. What else happened?"

Harry held out his hand. "I'll tell you and... Dumbledore together."

"Was it about you?" Ron asked with a dreadful eagerness in his eyes. "Is he planning on doing something to you?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Did you... see anything? When you... woke up?" Ron was acting stranger than ever and he wanted to know why.

"Come on, Harry, just tell me and then I'll help you to Dumbledore's office," Ron said, helping Harry push the covers back and move to the edge of the bed.

Harry clutched at the nearest bedpost, surprised to find his breathing was somewhat easier now he was upright. With an effort he swung his legs over the bed, still clinging to the post and prepared to stand. "No... there's an intruder... They might still be here. We've... waited too long already."

"There's no one here, Harry." Ron said in what was probably meant to be a soothing tone, but actually gave Harry the creeps. "Just us."

"No," Harry said and took a deep breath, pushing himself up to his feet where he wobbled precariously. "I need the map."

Ron just stared at him as if he were an interesting new creature at the zoo. Harry precariously walked to the end of his bed where his trunk sat. If he could at least get a look at the map he'd be able to see who was out of place, maybe it wasn't an intruder after all, but a student, maybe even a teacher. After all it wouldn't be the first time one of his professors tried to murder him.

Ron's hand closed around his wrist and he pulled Harry round to face him, knocking the lit wand from Harry's hand. Harry gaped at the look on Ron's face; a mixture of awe and terror. "What's wrong?" he asked, although he had a dreadful feeling that he already knew.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron whispered. "I don't want to do it, but I've got to."

"Do what?" Harry was trying to gently disentangle himself from Ron, but his movements were becoming more frantic. He needed to get his wand and get to Dumbledore. If he could convince Ron to come with him all the better, maybe Dumbledore could figure out what was wrong with him.

"I'm just so scared, all the time," Ron said quietly. "Scared that _he'll_ get you and he'll torture you for days, maybe even weeks or months before he gets tired of it and finally kills you. And I hate it. For the longest time I didn't know what to do, but then it came to me, waching you in that snowball fight earlier, that I could stop that from happening."

"Stop it how?" Harry demanded, no longer keeping his voice down for the sake of his room mates. Let them wake up; he might need their help soon anyway.

"If you died, here and now, then_ he_ could never touch you."

Harry gasped and pulled away as hard as he could, but Ron's grip was strong and Harry wasn't at his best right now. Adrenaline started pumping through him. "Let me go," he yelled.

Grumbling noises told him that at least one of the other boys had awoken, but Ron ignored it. "Please, Harry. I need you to understand, mate."

"If you were my _mate_ you wouldn't be trying to kill me," Harry said vehemently and there was a gasp from behind Neville's bed hangings. He tried to ignore the stab of pain in his chest as he wondered how long ago Ron had betrayed him. Was he a Death Eater now?

"But it would have been almost painless," Ron said pleadingly. "If you died peacefully in your sleep then you'd never go through that kind of torture and I wouldn't have to be scared anymore. Please, Harry, I don't want you to die hating me."

Harry stared at him, no longer knowing what to think. Ron didn't sound like a Death Eater, yet he was trying to kill him. "You can't honestly think killing me will help," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "I thought you were my _best _friend."

"I am," Ron insisted. "That's why I have to do this." He used his grip on Harry's arm to swing him back towards the bed. Pain bloomed through Harry's skull where it struck the bedpost and he fell to the floor, dazed. Through the fog that was his vision he could see Ron advancing on him.

A/N: Not quite so long this time, but long enough, sorry about that. Every time I think I'm going to have time to write something happens. Having two jobs doesn't help either. I'm going to try extra hard to get the next one out quicker so you're not left suffering from this cliffhanger.

Thank you to those that reviewed. I read and appreciate every one of them even if I don't always have time to reply.

Hope to hear from you all (hint hint.)

Nat.


	19. Fear

Chapter 19 – Fear

Harry kicked out, no longer caring that this was Ron before him. His foot hit something and Ron cried out. Harry tried to lunge towards his wand, but Ron was already on him, his hands wrapping around Harry's neck and squeezing.

"Sorry, sorry," Ron was muttering. "I'm so sorry, Harry." He began shaking Harry harshly, as if that would help kill him faster. With each shake Harry's head bounced against the floor.

Harry grasped Ron's wrists in an effort to remove them from his throat, squeezing and digging his short nails in as harshly as possible. He bucked his legs, hoping to dislodge Ron in order to take a much needed breath. His lungs, still not recovered from almost being smothered, felt like they were on fire and he was wheezing again, the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

"_Stupefy_!" a voice cried out. There was a flash of red light and Ron's grip immediately loosened as he slumped forward, his weight pinning Harry in place where he was half propped up against his bed. He began coughing roughly in between taking large gulping breaths.

The weight shifted and fell to one side and Harry could see Neville peering down at him. "You alright, Harry?"

Still coughing Harry nodded and held out a hand to be helped up.

"Sorry it took so long for me to stun him," Neville said, biting his lips as he gently pulled Harry up and guided him to sit on the bed. "I couldn't find my wand."

"S'okay," Harry choked. Looking down he could see Ron sprawled on the floor, looking like he'd merely fallen asleep down there. He looked more peaceful than Harry had seen him since Christmas.

"What's going on?" Dean muttered from his own bed.

Harry waved for Neville to explain and laid back. He was feeling dizzy and his head was pounding from lack of oxygen. His mind felt fuzzy and the voices seemed far away despite the adrenaline still pumping through his system. Absently he reached a hand up to the back of his head where the pain seemed to be centred. It came away sticky and when he peered at it, with great difficulty even though he was wearing his glasses, he thought he could see a smear of blood on it.

"Harry," a voice was calling through the fog. "Harry, Dean's gone to get Madame Pomfrey. Can you hear me?"

Harry nodded weakly. "Get Dumbledore."

There was some whispering and then two Nevilles were leaning over him again. "Seamus is going to watch Ron while I go, okay Harry?"

"Mmm," Harry hummed. "Password's... Croaking Crunches." The pain in his throat made it hard to talk and it was getting difficult to remember what he wanted to say anyway. He let his eyes flutter closed.

Harry awoke, really wishing he hadn't. His head was pounding and his throat felt tight, and when he opened his eyes the whiteness of the Hospital Wing assaulted his senses and made him groan. He could still see Ron crouching over him, and he suppressed a shudder. Ron, his best friend for the last five and a half years had tried to kill him. Was he a Death Eater now? Or had he ever really been Harry's friend at all?

"Lay still," Madam Pomfrey said gently. "You've got a concussion from hitting your head so hard. I can give you a potion to alleviate most of the symptoms, but I'm still going to want to keep you here until tomorrow. Can't have you fainting and falling down the stairs now can we?"

Harry blinked at her fuzzily, accepting the potion she held to his lips. With a grimace he realised it hurt him to swallow, but he forced himself to speak anyway. "Ron!" he croaked when she moved it away. He had to make sure they knew what had happened.

Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly as she gently placed his glasses atop his nose. Strangely enough it did nothing for his blurred vision. "Don't try to talk if you can help it. Mr. Weasley damaged your larynx when he tried to choke you. I've already healed the bruising as much as I can, the rest should fade away before you leave."

"As for Mr. Weasley, I believe I can answer any questions you may have."

Harry squinted over Pomfrey's shoulder. He could just make out something big and white atop a sky blue blur and guessed it was Professor Dumbledore. He wondered how he was supposed to ask questions if he wasn't allowed to talk.

Pomfrey argued for a moment that Harry should be left to rest, but Dumbledore quickly persuaded her to let them talk with the promise that it would be a short conversation. Eventually she left with a huff and Dumbledore settled himself into the chair by Harry's bed.

"Well, Harry, it seems trouble finds you even when you sleep," Dumbledore began. "I must apologise for not seeing myself that there was a problem with young Mr. Weasley. I confess I merely thought that he was suffering under normal adolescent difficulties or at the very worst that he was experiencing a quite understandable reaction to the problems of the wizarding world. His family is, after all, heavily involved in the war. Anxiety and mood swings are to be expected. In fact I am rather surprised we aren't seeing more of it."

Harry could only stare at him, but if it took Dumbledore much longer to get to the point he would ignore Pomfrey's instructions not to speak and demand to know what had happened.

It seemed his determination was written across his face, for Dumbledore chuckled and patted his shoulder. "I see you are not to be deterred. Very well. Mr. Weasley has been under the influence of a fear spell."

Harry frowned. He'd never heard of a fear spell before but he could guess what it did. Apparently it made someone try to murder their best friend.

"Fear spells are Dark Arts designed to make the victim fixate on one of their fears. The caster can choose the direction the curse takes, but they cannot create the source of it from nothing, somewhere in the victims mind they must already feel an ounce of that fear.

"In Mr. Weasley's case that fear was for you. It is only natural that he would be scared for you, as prominent a figure as you are in this war. The person who cast the spell took that fear and amplified it to the point that he could think of nothing else. He burned to save you from the fate he was sure Voldemort would inflict on you.

"The problem was that there was no way he could protect you besides shadowing you. From what I can discern you have rarely been alone since Christmas, even when you thought you were."

A flash of alarm shot through Harry at that. Had Ron seen him meet Daphne? He wasn't sure how he could have, sine he usually took his invisibility cloak and map with him at those times and he hadn't noticed Ron on the map, but there was still the chance... No matter how much he trusted Ron – or used to at any rate – the thought of him knowing about his meetings with Daphne unsettled him. He wanted her to stay a secret for as long as possible.

Dumbledore was still talking. "Eventually it occurred to him that there was a way to ensure you were never captured by Voldemort; a suggestion that would have been implanted in his head even as the spell was cast. There was a part of him that would have fought against it for as long as he could, but finally he could deny it no longer."

Harry's surprise stopped him from staying silent. "So he was trying to kill me to _protect_ me?" He hated the way his voice croaked and squeaked, but ignored it as well as the pain in favour of getting his answers.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Dumbledore agreed. "The spell would have presented him with a way to put you forever beyond Voldemort's reach."

Harry didn't know what to think. Part of him was beyond angry that Ron had tried to kill him and wanted to sever their friendship for good, but he'd seen the way Ron had been acting and it did fit with what Dumbledore said.

"When you're well enough you can see him," Dumbledore said reassuringly, as if thinking Harry wanted to see the person who put him in the hospital wing yet. Even knowing about the fear spell wouldn't get him through a meeting like that right now. He didn't care that it was irrational, or that Ron might not really be to blame, he just _couldn't._

"Unfortunately we cannot leave you alone with him until he is cured of the fear spell," Dumbledore went on, oblivious to the internal battle going on inside Harry. "And we will need your help for that Harry. Not only because you are the object of Mr. Weasley's fear and must be present to dispel the curse on him, but I think the ritual will calm any concerns you may have over the loyalty of your friend."

Harry merely nodded. He was feeling tired now, and just wanted to sleep and forget this ever happened and when he woke up Ron and Hermione would be sitting at his bedside and teasing him for ending up in the Hospital Wing again.

He was barely aware of Dumbledore patting his shoulder as he left, or Pomfrey bustling around him a few moments later. He swallowed the potions she gave him without a word and lay back on his pillows. Before he knew it he was asleep.

Hermione was sitting in the chair beside his bed when he awoke. She quickly helped him sit up and handed him his glasses. Although his head spun wildly he no longer felt as though his throat was full of sand and glass. His vision was a bit better too.

Hermione's face was pale and tearstained as she gazed at him sadly. "Oh Harry, I can't believe something like this has happened."

Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to talk yet so he cleared his throat gently. "Did they tell you...?"

"Neville told me Ron attacked you and Dumbledore spoke to me too. He said he needs your help to dissipate the spell."

Harry nodded. "Do they know who cast it?" His voice was still a little scratchy, but at least it didn't hurt to talk.

"No," Hermione said weakly. "But given that his odd behaviour started after our visit to Diagon Alley, they think that's when it happened. It could have been _anyone_. It's well known that he's your best friend and with that hair he's quite distinctive. We could have passed a Death Eater in disguise on the street and not known it. Dumbledore said..."

Harry waited until it became obvious that she wasn't going to continue. "What did Dumbledore say?"

Hermione sniffled and Harry was half afraid she would burst into tears. "It's only been a month since then, but this spell usually takes much longer to run its course. There's no reason he should have succumbed so quickly, unless..." and she did begin to cry then. "They think the brains that attacked Ron in the Department of Mysteries had more of an effect than they thought it did, that it weakened his mind's resistance to the point that he couldn't fight the fear spell."

Harry felt a spasm of horror flush through him. If that was true, and Ron had received some permanent damage _that_ night... It was his fault, he'd led them there. And he was sitting here feeling sorry for himself when it was his own actions that brought him here. He should be doing everything he could to help Ron, not shying away from meeting him, like he was some kind of pariah.

"The only other option is that it was cast before that, maybe in St Mungo's last Christmas when we were visiting Mr. Weasley. But I'm sure we would have noticed something before now."

"And why would they cast something like that on Ron when I was right there? They could have killed me themselves and saved a lot of time," Harry muttered. He laid one hand on Hermione's arm, hoping to still her crying. He didn't really know what to do to comfort her, or any crying girl for that matter, which was why his relationship with Cho ended so disastrously. "There's a third option too," he said absently, hoping that by continuing the conversation he would distract her from her tears. If he had been thinking more clearly he would not have said what he did next. "Maybe he wasn't trying to fight it at all." He almost surprised himself with the words. Had he really been thinking that?

Hermione gasped and shoved away from him, surging to her feet. "Are you suggesting that Ron _wanted _to hurt you? That he tried to kill you of his own free will? He's your _friend_ Harry, your _best friend_. How could you accuse him of something like that?"

Harry could only gape at her in dismay. "I-I didn't mean..."

But he had meant it. No matter how much he heard about the spell there was still a large part of him that resented what Ron had done, blamed him, maybe even hated him for it.

Hermione was glaring at him now, her eyes full of anger, with no sign of the tears that had filled them moments before. "I can't believe you. He risked his life for you when he followed you to the Ministry last year. He would _never_ want you dead."

"I know," Harry yelled at her and immediately wished he hadn't as pain spiked in his head and throat. "You didn't see him, Hermione. He tried to _kill _me and I know all about the fear spell, but you can't just expect me to forget about it." With a small cry he pressed his hand to the side of his head, where the agony seemed centred.

Madam Pomfrey was there, shrugging Hermione aside and holding another potion to his lips. He must have drunk it, as moments later his mind started to clear.

"You need to rest," Pomfrey admonished. "You're still recovering from a concussion. Miss Granger if you want to stay you must promise not to agitate him or I will have to ask you to leave."

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said contritely. "I'll just stay a few more moments."

"Very well," Pomfrey said primly and retreated to her office.

Hermione didn't look at him as she retook her seat. They sat in silence, both refusing eye contact until Harry was sure Pomfrey would be coming back to kick Hermione out.

"I... maybe I over reacted," Hermione said, so quietly he almost didn't catch it. "Of course you would feel that way. It's only natural you would be a bit... nervous of Ron after what happened. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Harry lifted one shoulder in a half hearted shrug. "Is Ron alright?" He realised it was the first time he'd asked after his friend since the attack.

Hermione sniffled but this time Harry didn't move to comfort her. "They're keeping him asleep until you're well enough to help with the ritual. They think that if he woke up the first thing he would do is try again." She looked up at him finally, tears shining in her eyes and a desolate expression on her face. "What if they can't fix it? What if the two of you can never be in the same room together without him trying to kill you? He wouldn't want to, but what if he couldn't help himself?"

"You'd choose him," Harry said somewhat bitterly. "He is your boyfriend after all. I'm just your friend."

"My best friend," Hermione insisted. "How can you think I'd just push you aside like that?"

"Because you've already done it once," Harry said, trying to keep his voice expressionless. He wouldn't let her know how much it hurt him to think of the three of them going their separate ways permanently.

Hermione hissed in surprise. "I thought you understood that. You said you forgave us."

"Yeah, but that was before Ron attacked me and I realised that if it ever came down to a choice, neither one of you would choose me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she reached out a hand to place it on his arm, but he shrugged it off.

"Harry-"

"If you don't mind, Hermione, I'm feeling quite tired after that potion," Harry said stiffly and turned his head abruptly away from her. He was feeling a bit alarmed that he'd been so open with her. She was his best friend, but he was never any good with the emotional stuff. Now, with the idea that she and Ron would resume their behaviour before Christmas, only this time _deliberately _staying away from him instead of accidentally... He could feel his eyes glaze over and he blinked rapidly to force the moisture away. Crying never did _anyone_ any good, he'd learnt that long ago.

When he looked around again Hermione was gone. He tried to tell himself he was glad. He wouldn't miss her when she abandoned him forever.

It was late and Pomfrey had retired to her office for the evening when she came, gliding along the ward like a pale ghost, the patches of moonlight making her skin glow luminescently.

"Daphne," Harry breathed.

She snorted, breaking the unearthly impression she had given him.

"The whole school is buzzing, wondering what's wrong with you and Weasley," she said, standing at the edge of his bed. "I just had to come down here and see for myself."

"Thanks for your concern," Harry said dryly.

"I apologise, your Highness," Daphne said, dropping into a graceful curtsey. "I don't know what overcame me. I was, of course, completely torn up with worry for you and did not hesitate to come and see for myself that you were alright."

Harry opened his mouth to tell her not to call him that when he saw the almost mischievous look in her eyes. He was so surprised to see so much emotion from her that the words were lost in his throat. "I... er... I could do without the sarcasm thanks."

"Yes, my prince."

That time Harry thought he even detected amusement in her tone. "Oi."

With a tinkling laugh that made Harry's breath catch, Daphne sat on the edge of his bed. He held still as her eyes took in the bruises around his neck. "So what _did_ happen?"

Harry sighed and told her about the attack. She listened attentively as he explained the fear spell and the possibility that the brains in the Department of Mysteries had permanently damaged Ron. He didn't want to admit to her how much the idea scared him, how much the idea of _Ron_ scared him right now. Even when he and Ron had fallen out in the past Harry had never been afraid that Ron would attack him and though he knew that what had happened the night before was the result of a spell he couldn't shake off this... wariness he felt at the thought of confronting Ron.

Daphne waited until he had finished, her eyes never leaving his, before she began to speak, gently, almost soothingly and Harry wondered if she had somehow sensed what he had been reluctant to say. "In the elven realm there is a creature – we call them the gorga – and they have a similar effect on an elf as this spell seems to have had on Weasley. When I was young, before I knew I could do human magic, my father led a squadron of warriors to drive a nest of gorga from the outskirts of our city. He returned with half as many men as he left with, all of them half mad with fright. I didn't really understand it at the time, but when I was older father explained what happened." She stared past him for a long moment, her eyes far away. "The gorga sensed them coming and attacked first. They don't attack with teeth or claws, but with fear. Some of the warriors died in those first moments, their hearts gave out, but others turned on their comrades, terrified out of their minds that they would be stabbed in the back by their friends. Few were strong enough to withstand that many gorga, but they managed to use magic to drive them off and to reawaken those of the party that had fallen prey to the gorga's power. Even those that survived... It took my father a long time to recover fully. We almost had to leave him behind when we moved to the human realm."

Harry patted her hand as a gesture of comfort. She glanced up at him, her eyes conveying a level of warmth he wouldn't have thought her capable of.

"My point is that fear can make a person – human or elf – do irrational things, things they would never even contemplate under normal circumstances. Many of those warriors died by the hand of their fellows, by those unable to conquer their fear."

Harry nodded. "So you're saying I shouldn't blame Ron for what he did, because he couldn't help it and he wasn't really in control. I've been hearing that all day." He abruptly turned his face away.

"That's an important point to remember," Daphne agreed. "But I am more concerned with _your _fear."

Harry snorted. "I'm not afraid."

"Oh, so you don't want to be left alone with Weasley for some other reason?" Daphne said lightly.

"What?" Harry spluttered. "I never... I didn't say that."

"But you did," Daphne disagreed. "Maybe not in words, but I can see it in your face. You're concerned... not about your own life, you've never been particularly worried about that, I don't think, but you are worried that this attack says something about your friendship with Weasley, that if he could attack you like that then he can't have cared for you as much as you thought he did."

"I- I know he didn't want to do it," Harry said. "Voldemort even called him his 'unwilling servant,' it's just... if Voldemort can get him to try and kill me what else can he make Ron do? Can I trust him anymore?"

"When did You-Know-Who say that?" Daphne demanded. Harry was surprised for some reason that she didn't use the name, even though he knew he shouldn't be. She had spent the last five and a half years trying not to stand out in any way and saying 'Voldemort' would go against that even if she gave no visible sign of being afraid to hear the name.

"It was a dream," Harry said, the details only just coming back to him even as he was saying it, along with the thought that he hadn't yet told Dumbledore about it. "A vision. This connection I have with Voldemort lets me see things through his eyes sometimes, or like last night when I..." he screwed up his face as he tried to remember what Dmbledore had called it. "I project my astral self to where he is. It's like I'm in the same room with him, only no one can see me or hear me, but he can sense my presence." A thought struck him. "I was feeling really excited all day yesterday. I thought it was just because of the snow, but it was probably his emotions bleeding through. Why didn't I realise?"

Daphne stared at him in consternation. "This is very serious. What else did he say?"

Harry frowned in thought. The details were a little garbled, probably because of the concussion that was still giving him a minor headache. "He was taunting me, because he knew what was happening. He was going to keep me there while Ron smothered me with his pillow. How could he have known it would happen last night?" Hermione had said the fear spell took months to build up to the point where the victim acted on their fear and that it shouldn't have happened this quickly, but Voldemort had_ known_ exactly when it would happen. How was that possible?

"You said you woke up and Weasley was trying to suffocate you, but if You-Know-Who was keeping you there how did you manage to wake yourself?" Daphne asked in confusion.

"I..." Harry stared at her, appalled. "I don't think I did. I was trying to wake up, but nothing was happening. I've never managed to wake myself up during a vision before, I have to wait until they're finished." He tried to recall exactly what was going on in that dark room before he had awoken in the dorm room. "Voldemort was really angry about something. A messenger came in and told him something. He started yelling and I woke up. Maybe he got so angry he forgot to keep doing whatever it was that was stopping me from leaving."

Daphne was staring at him in consternation. "What could have made him so angry?"

"I dunno, I didn't hear what the messenger said," Harry said fretfully. He gasped. "But he did say that it was from the translator. Something about a fountain..."

"A fountain?" Daphne said disbelievingly. "That sounds like the sort of thing that would upset Narcissa Malfoy just before a big party, not a Dark Lord."

"It's got to be something out of the book," Harry muttered.

"What_ book_?" Daphne demanded.

Harry glanced up at her, suddenly realising that he'd almost spilled one of the most important secrets he knew. "I'll have to tell Dumbledore tomorrow. He'll figure it out."

Daphne nodded. "Alright. Is there anything I should tell my father? If our people are going to help then they'll need certain information."

"Yeah, but I don't see how any of this will help them," Harry said reasonably.

"The King and Queen will want to know about your visions," Daphne pointed out. "There are certain techniques you can use to protect yourself from them."

"I'm already learning Occlumency," Harry shrugged. "Not that I'm any good at it."

"I've heard of that," Daphne nodded. "Maybe an elven method will be more effective. Especially now. I'll ask my father."

"Why especially now?"

Daphne smiled her mysterious smile. "Because your elf side will start waking up any day now," she said. "Your birthday is less than six months away after all."

He had forgotten about that. Maybe he'd finally get the proof he wanted to lose those last niggling little doubts that stopped him from giving her his complete trust. "And yours is in less than a month."

She shivered, but Harry knew she couldn't be cold. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

"Oh?"

"My birthday falls on a Wednesday," Daphne began. "The precise time of my birth in human terms was eleven fifty-nine in the morning."

"I see," Harry said, letting his tone convey that he really didn't.

"The change takes place at the exact moment that we turn seventeen," Daphne explained.

"Right," he said, thinking. "Wait, that means you'll change during _Potions_? How will we hide that? Everyone will see and the whole secret will be out. Unless you skip class, but then there'll be all sorts of questions."

"Well, I have an idea," Daphne said, watching him carefully. "It's a bit risky though. And I'll need your help."

"Anything," Harry promised impulsively.

She smiled and warmth spread across Harry's neck in response. "I hoped you would say that. I'm also hoping that you'll agree to sit with me during the change."

Harry blinked. "Of course, but wouldn't you prefer to be with your father in the cave?"

"Neither one of us can cross the ward line unless we want to bring the teachers running," Daphne pointed out. "That would be even worse than us both skipping the same class. There won't be time anyway, even if everything goes as planned. I was thinking instead of going to the study room. The library's not all that far from the dungeons and from there it's a quick trip to the Hospital Wing."

"The Hospital Wing!" Harry exclaimed. "It's not going to be that bad is it?"

"No," she said reassuringly. "But it will be necessary. Let me explain..."

Later, when Harry was alone again, he lay back and thought about what he had just agreed to. Not only was it risky, but the timing would be crucial. If they were even a little bit late getting out of class they risked Daphne going through her change in the middle of a corridor and knowing Snape there'd be all sorts of complications. Still he couldn't think of anything better. He wondered how other elves handled this situation. He somehow doubted that they would have had friends to help them skip class. How had his mother managed it? He didn't even know what day her birthday had been, for all he knew she had a summer birthday like him, or had been born in the evening. Had she had anyone with her during the change? Her family would have been in another realm, unable to be with her. Had she gone through it alone?

Well Daphne at least wouldn't be alone. And when July came he could only hope he wouldn't be either.

A/N: Oops! That took a lot longer than I hoped, but at least I got it up for Christmas.

As always thank you for the reviews. I really enjoy reading them and sometimes they give me helpful ideas.

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year!

Nat.


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